


She's So High

by Thewriterinme



Series: College Kids [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:52:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewriterinme/pseuds/Thewriterinme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU!  Sequel to COGH.  Faberry's relationship in college takes a downturn. Now what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Other Side of the World (KT Tunstall)

I look out at my audience in this particular setting. I know she's here. I have to try this. No matter how many times I've tried speaking to her, she won't give me an in. This is my newest strategy.

I'm at a stupid party I don't actually want to be at, because Santana swore to me by her dead grandmother that she'd be here. Isn't it ironic that the one person who hated Quinn the most when she and I started dating knows more about her than I do?

I look at my "band," or the guys I contacted in the past week to practice this with me. They all seem to only be awaiting for my signal. I want to start; my nerves are building. Nerves shouldn't get to me anymore, with working on an off-Broadway - very soon to be on Broadway - show. But this is a different circumstance. I need to do this. And I want to just get it done with it, but I can't find her.

It took a while to let the party host to let me do this, but after a lot of persuasion by both Santana and I (and some light making out by Santana and Britt - I know, I'm ashamed I even asked), the guy let me.

As soon as I spot her, I give my band a quick nod and the guitar starts with the intro. I don't have to do much else to grab her attention but clear my throat quietly into the mic (provided by me, of course, as well as all the other audio stuff, that Jessie helped me set up). Hazel eyes burn into mine immediately, and I let her gaze sink in before coming in right on time.

Give me love like her,  
'cause lately I've been waking up alone,  
Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt,  
Told you I'd let them go,  
And that I'll fight my corner,  
Maybe tonight I'll call ya,  
After my blood turns into alcohol,  
No, I just wanna hold ya.

Give a little time to me or burn this out,  
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,  
All I want is the taste that your lips allow,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love.

Give me love like never before,  
'cause lately I've been craving more,  
And it's been a while but I still feel the same,  
Maybe I should let you go,  
You know I'll fight my corner,  
And that tonight I'll call ya,  
After my blood is drowning in alcohol,  
No I just wanna hold ya.

Give a little time to me or burn this out,  
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,  
All I want is the taste that your lips allow,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
Give a little time to me, or burn this out,  
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,  
All I want is the taste that your lips allow,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My, my, my, my, oh give me love,  
My my, my, my, oh give me love.

M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,  
M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,  
M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,  
M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover.

I've practically begged her to take me back, and yet she still seems cold. She's simply staring at me from where she stood through most of my performance. No. Not performance - my declaration. Ripping my heart open for her and letting it bleed with all the want in it, in the way I know best. I can't talk about it but I can sure as hell sing it.

The party has quieted down. Since I started singing to Quinn until now, not a word has been uttered. I smile at the owner of the apartment and he gives me a thumbs up before turning the loud music back on and people go back to dancing.

I take my time to her. First, I stop by the keg to grab some beer because, nerves. Then, I gulp half of it down.

"Hey," I say when I approach. I can see that she's nervous about letting me come too close.

She looks around at the raging party going on around us, trying to analyze in that way of hers if this is really happening. She looks so gorgeous in the teal tee and ripped jeans- casual is how I love her best. Her hair reflects the lights flicking on and off to the insistent beat of the song.

"Hi," she tells me, finally, after what seems like ages and doesn't linger her eyes on mine. Nervously, she licks her lips, like I knew she would, and tries to not look at mine. I know it; I know her. I miss the fuck out of her.

She isn't going to say anything else if I don't keep the conversation going (since I started it). My racing heart is competing to kill me faster than her stare. "How have you been, Quinn?" The taste of her name on my tongue, as it passes my lips, and leaves my mouth, feels intoxicating and it makes me want to just say it again for no reason other than to just say it. I have been purposely avoiding saying the damn name because of the reactions it causes on me, ever since she broke up with me.

She isn't willing to let this get carried away. I see it that she is struggling to stay there and I fucking hate it how much effort she has to make to be in my presence now.

Does she not fucking miss me like I miss her? Does she not fucking care? Did she not fucking love me? No. She did. She did love me. She does, I just know. I feel it. I need her to. I persist, "did you like the song? It's by Ed Sheeran. I sang it for you." I tell her that bit of info even though I know she knows.

"I've been good, Rachel." She replies succinctly, irking a rage within me. Knowing that she's been 'good' without me doesn't make me happy, and if that makes me selfish then fuck the world. I don't give a shit. She doesn't ask me back how I'm doing, and it hurts to know she doesn't care. She doesn't even acknowledge the song.

I frown, and ask, visibly hurt, "do you not miss me at all?" It comes out as a whisper, the anger practically tangible.

She winces at the question and looks around again, away, looking for something or someone. I see her fidgeting with her fingers, my chest constricts, my head feels like it'll burst. "Rach..." she starts, trying to not let me go there. Her eyes betray her feelings, as they've always have. Any other person looks into them and sees hazel, and I look into them and see everything: the stars (galaxies and galaxies of them), the hurt, the pretense, the memories, and how much she misses me.

"No, Quinn. Don't give me this bullshit." I say, slightly irritated, rising the hand holding onto the red cup, filled halfway with beer from a keg. I throw some hair over my shoulder with the free hand and look her up and down, disgusted. "Just tell me how you fucking feel."

"As I remember, Rachel," she spits back, with just as much disdain in her tone of voice, "you were the one who always had trouble expressing your feelings."

"I know I fucking suck at talking, okay? But I can sing and I sang for you! And - just. I'm here now and we can talk. We'll talk all you want."

She doesn't say anything for a while and I just wait. We stare at each other in a silent battle of egos until she says, "listen, Rach. Let's not do this here or now... Nothing good will come out of here so-"

I can tell she wants me to tell her I'll go and leave but I don't though. Because I'm not ready to, yet, and I just - I have to show her that I want her just as much now as I've always had. "Quinn, ask me how much I miss you." I try, with a different approach.

"I can't, Rachel," she says. It's been almost a month since we broke up, on terrible terms, really, and I haven't been able to get her out of my head - my thoughts, dreams, my longings, my memories. "I can't ask you that," she says and bites on that lower lips that I've always loved to love, kiss, bite, touch, lick.

"And why the fuck not?" I grit out through my teeth, squinting at her, pissed. I'm pissed at where we are; pissed I let it get here; pissed she is 'good.'

I'm not good. I haven't been good.

Santana shows up in my line of vision, behind Quinn, looking worried and like she's about to intervene. Even with all the bodies between us, she can sense how this can get ugly real bad. I simply shake my head at her - no -and she stops moving. I focus back on Quinn, who's still trying to come up with a stupid lame-ass excuse. "Just fucking say it, dammit." I urge.

"I can't because I'm afraid of how I'll react to your answer," she finally admits.

So there is hope. It's all I need. At least we're fighting again - means there's passion. We're still in this, no matter what she or anyone else says. "So you do miss me," I expel with a certain air of victory, smug. I cross my arms and dare her to say otherwise.

"Of course I do, Rachel. Every fucking day, are you happy now?" Without even asking, she takes my fucking beer and downs it, swiping the back of her hand over her mouth. It's sexy. It shouldn't be - considering the situation - but it is, and all I want to do is throw my body at hers and suck the beer off her lips.

"That was mine." I protest, without being actually upset at her for doing it. I think it's actually beautiful that she just claimed it like that, as if we're still together - as if she can.

And she can. She'll always can.

"You don't care," she tells me, pointing at me, and I nod in agreement, because I don't. "Look, Rachel," she tries again. "Maybe we should talk at another time, okay? Enjoy the party, go dance with some girl, and - I don't know. Just...let's not do this tonight. I'm tired of fighting." I hate it when she uses that tone of voice, raspy and pleading, combined with that look.

"So you don't care if I go dance with some random," I comment on her passing statement, lingering. I'm annoyingly persistent, I know that, but it's just to provoke her and continue reminding her that I'm still around.

"No, I don't, Rachel." She says, irritated. "We're not together anymore so it's none of my business who the hell you dance with." Rude. She says it all rude and shit, and I just hate her so much despite how much I love her.

Probably because of how much I still love her.

"Fine, be a fucking bitch then." Is what I say to her. I don't remember the last time I insulted her like this, meaning it, and with every intention of hurting her feelings. "Fuck you, Quinn."

She knows I'm not over her. And I know she's not over me. A month is definitely not enough fucking time for her to be over me. I scoff at her, and walk away, trying to keep some of my pride intact.

Before I make it back across the room to the keg, for a refill, Santana is grabbing me by the elbow. "You're not drinking anymore tonight."

"Fuck off," I say, taking my elbow back to myself. "I've only had half a cup."

"I know, but I don't want to see what you'd do with any more alcohol in you, you ass." She's upset and affected by the whole situation. Quinn and she have become incredibly closer over the year.

Quinn broke up with me in the beginning of February, just shy of our first year anniversary and her birthday. I had already bought her the gifts. I left them at the house anyway, the night of her party, with one of her cheerleaders. That night has been the first in a week that she contacted me. She thanked me for the lovely gifts over text and that was it.

She was - is - trying to move on. But I don't want to let her. And I won't. Not without fighting for her. I hear her voice echoing through my head: "I could, you know." Get over you. Is what she had told me once and it's come up in my thoughts consistently the past month. She said she would. I'm afraid she will. She can't, because I won't be able to.

I wasn't trying hard enough, she had said. She was tired of putting so much effort, and feeling like I didn't care enough. Same old, same old. I told her that I was just busy with the musical and school and she countered with the fact that she's also studying and she's the head cheerleader AND she is juggling a paid-internship at a small firm near campus. But somehow, she had said, she still made time for me; I was coasting through our relationship now.

Fuck that.

I hate the term, 'coasting.' I was present. I am present.

It's ridiculous, really.

We began to fight regularly right around Christmas time, when I didn't want her to go back to Ohio (again), and she didn't want me to stay in New York for the musical (again). But this time the musical was much more important than before because it had been successful and it continued to garner supporters, fans, and the attention of the media.

She went to Ohio. I stayed.

This time it was more strained than the first time, but we argued that if we made it through once, we could again. And this time it was only about two and a half weeks, compared to almost half of summer.

"I won't do anything stupid, San." I defend myself and pour the beer even as she glares at me.

"So, speaking to Quinn - what, does that go under the 'not stupid' category?" I fucking hate it when Santana starts speaking to me like this, so I show her my middle finger, and walk away.

The party is boring, at least so far.

At some point, I make eye contact briefly with a short black-haired girl on the other side of the dance floor with 'fuck me' eyes. It's only when I look back and realize that she's still staring that I make my way over.

Now standing in front of her, I smile, in that charming way from before Quinn, and introduce myself, already claiming possession of her waist with the empty hand. "Rachel Berry," I say it in her ear, with a giggle in my voice and second intentions in my mind. "What's your name?" It's hard talking when the music is so loud, vibrating through every cell of my body, but she nods as I speak to let me know she can hear.

"Hailey Gordon, but most people call me Hey."

"Hey, as in - the greeting?" I ask, sort of laughing, but completely intrigued by her.

She smiles as pulls away a little to look at me in the eyes and nods. When she comes closer again, resting her warm cheek against my own, she says, "I saw you talking to Quinn Fabray; you guys used to date, right?"

I shake my head against hers, wanting to forget all that, and take a long gulp of the sweet nectar in my hand, to give me time to avoid the question. "But we don't anymore," I say. "So, Hey, do you dance?" I point behind me, and she looks bashful for just a second.

"I'm afraid I'm really bad at it," she says without convincing me. "I'd need instructions."

With a sly smile and the conviction I'm the best dancer, I grab her hand and lead her past the people to the middle of the dance floor.

I position myself in front of her, and hold her hands, having discarded my beer cup along the way, and start stepping side to side to the beat. "You're doing pretty well," I compliment her.

We get closer and close as the song progresses and gets heavier. I let go of her hands and move mine down her body, pressing her closer. The way her body moves against mine drives me crazy, and it makes me thirsty - for water, for her, to forget the other one.

When I glance to the right, in the middle of a song that Hey is grinding into me hardcore - her ass pressed into my front (suddenly she knew how to dance) - I catch Quinn looking. She's leaning on a blank space on the wall, sipping on water from a bottle. One of her eyebrows raise at me, and I can't be bothered by her look. She can't be upset. She told me to dance, she's trying to move on so I have every right to. I just send her a closed-lip smile and turn my attention back to Hey.

"You lied, babe." I tell Hey, smirking at the way her hand snakes up and around my neck to hold me closer. "You know how to dance."

"I do," she giggles. I feel it more than actually hear it. I decide to go for it, because the best way to get over someone...

"Do you want to get out of here? I live about a block from here." Mike isn't home tonight, I'm almost one hundred percent sure.

By this point I'm simply hovering my hands over her waist, watching her move deliciously against me and my desire grows with each second that passes.

"Yeah," she says breathlessly, so I take her by the hand and we leave, passing right by Quinn.

I don't look at her, but on my way to not looking I her, I see Santana looking at me with the biggest disappointed look sketched on her face.

I don't let her control. I take her roughly up against my front door, then somehow we make it to my bedroom, where I take her on my bed. Twice.

She is the polar opposite of Quinn - in looks and personality, but I almost slip-up when I come a second time.

Quinn's name almost tumbles out of my mouth in my ecstasy, but I catch myself when I open my eyes and see dull brown staring back.

"Was she at least good in bed?" Santana shakes me awake with that question.

Hey is still next to me. I groan because I shouldn't have let her stay. "San," I hiss, and make a gesture for her to leave.

"Get up, let's go." She orders me, and doesn't stop shaking me. It's making me even more frustrated, but I get up to make her stop.

I pull up my panties and jeans, watching carefully to see if Hey wakes up with my absence beside her. "Where the fuck are we going?"

"Brunch." She turns around and leaves me alone at last. Only when I go pick up my discarded The Smiths shirt, do I realize that Hey is waking up.

The worst part of it is that she looks thoroughly fucked and still gorgeous. She blinks slowly, trying to understand what's going on. It wouldn't be hard for me to like a girl like this if I wasn't so hung up on another one who looked even prettier after a night of sex.

I'm not exactly heartless, so I lean over her and kiss her quickly on the lips, "Morning, gorg. I have to go to brunch with my friend. I'll call you, alright? Stay as long as you need."

There's barely even time for her to comprehend what I just said when Santana barges in again, pulling me by the hand. "Bye," she tells Hey with a sarcastic smile.

"You could start learning to be nice to the girls I'm going to start seeing." I say when we're outside of my apartment building, Santana looking like she's deciding where to go still.

"Well, well. Start seeing huh?"

"Yeah."

Santana pulls the coat she's wearing closer to her body and scrutinizes with those brown eyes of hers. "Whatever happened to fighting for Quinn? How do you intend on fighting by sleeping with other chicks, you idiot?"

We start walking South together, making our way to Fred's, a breakfast joint we both enjoy. They serve the best omelets. "I don't really know what I'm doing, San. I just want one of two things: be with her, or be over her. And I know that right now, neither one of those options is going to happen."

"Rach, you're my best friend," she starts as she opens the door of the diner. "So I have the right to tell you when you're being ridiculous. After you left with the chick last night, Quinn spent the night crying in Britt's arms."

I stare at Santana at the front of the diner, and a waitress awkwardly waits for us to pick a table to sit. I stay quiet.

Santana chooses a spot and I follow her, unable to come up with anything to say to the information she just disclosed. "I'm with her all the time, and she's fucking devastated."

"She has a way of showing -" I say while looking over the menu, even though I already know what I'll order.

"You don't make it easy. She's just hurt right now. Maybe you should try being her friend."

I stop looking to stare at Santana. Friends? Quinn and I don't know how to be friends. I don't want to just be her friend. I want all of her. "I can't just be her friend."

"Can't or won't?" She's said that to me before. Once, when Quinn and I weren't speaking. I hate it that she knows me - us - so well.

"Can't and won't," I reply, stubborn as ever.

The waitress comes back with a small yellow notepad and a blue pen and asks us if we know what we want. I order a spinach and chicken omelet and black coffee, Santana gets their Marvelous Meat Omelet, with every kind of meat available in it, and coffee.

"Well, anyway," I try to change subjects. "Last night - me leaving with Hey, was all her fault."

Santana blinks at me and hands the menu to the waitress. "Hold up," she says with a snicker. "That's her name? Hey?"

"Yeah," I say and shrug. "It's Hailey, but people call her Hey or whatever. I think it's cute."

"O-kay," she rolls her eyes and her sleeves up, after taking off her coat, and continues. "And how is it Quinn's fault again?"

"She told me to go dance," I say as if it's a sufficient answer.

"How - wait. How exactly does that mean 'take a girl home and fuck her'?" She scrunches her eyes at me, not understanding my behavior at all (and honestly, I don't really understand it either).

"I asked her if she didn't care who I danced with and she said she doesn't because we're not together anymore..." I elaborate. "If she doesn't care who I dance with then it's none of her business who I sleep with. She can't get upset."

"How would you feel if she had left with someone, Rachel? Think about it like that."

I stay quiet and politely smile up at the waitress in her mid-thirties, but who could pass as a 50 year old, when she brings my coffee. I drink it slowly, maintaining eye contact with Santana, because I don't want to respond.

She's right. Of course she is, but I won't give her the satisfaction.

How would I feel? I think. I'd be pissed, obviously. I'd probably throw a tantrum and make sure that the girl heard that Quinn still loves me. I'd make Santana make Quinn stop. I'd cry on Britt's shoulder and call Kurt to cuss her out. I'd probably end up crying all week in my room, and Mike and Tine would have to come pry me out to eat. Jesse would have to come over to feed me.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a familiar voice call me out from the door. I look up, and I'm surprised to see Gaea smiling and waving at me. She sees me because I'm facing the door, and Santana has her back to her, so I stand, and point at her so Santana can come say hi too.

We meet her halfway and she hugs us both excitedly. It's been a while since I've seen her, and we've never been close friends (in fact, I didn't like her for a long time because I was sure she liked Quinn), but it actually is nice to see her. She looks a little more tan right now than when I saw her last, before Christmas break. The darker hue of her skin really brings out the light color of her eyes.

"Hello, Gaea. It's so nice to see you," I say and hug her. She hugs me back and shares the sentiment and then hugs Santana.

"I haven't seen you guys in ages. How's everything?" She asks, her eyes smiling as big as her lips.

"Good," Santana replies before I say anything. "Everything's great with me."

"What about you, Rachel? I mean, where is Quinn?" She frowns, confused at the absence of my ever-present (ex-) girlfriend and looks over my shoulder to see if she missed her.

"I," I stutter, nervous, "I - we're... She and I are not longer seeing each other, so." I'm surprised Quinn didn't tell her or she hasn't heard it through the grapevine.

"What?" Her round eyes get bigger and she immediately apologizes for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. Are you -" she hesitates but asks anyway. "Are you okay?"

"Well," I sigh. "As okay as I can be, really."

Santana interrupts here, "hey, looks like our food's ready." I look behind and the waitress is setting our plates on the table. She looks at Gaea again, "want to join us?" She's just being polite. I know she doesn't want her to accept.

Gaea isn't dumb. She shakes her head, "no, I'm just going to grab something to go."

"It was nice talking to you," Santana offers and gives me a pointed look before retreating back to our little booth.

"Yeah, you too." Gaea says to her back. When she looks at me, I see how concerned she is, but I can't tell who she's concerned for: me, Quinn, or both. She pulls out a pen from her purse and grabs a napkin quickly from the counter. She scribbles something on it and hands it over. "Here, my number just in case you wanted to talk."

"Thanks," I say, softly. "I'll see you around."

She's already turning to the counter, "see you."

I make my way back to Santana and our eggs and sit, sticking the napkin into my back pocket. "How is it?" I ask, referring to the food.

"What's that?" She asks, pointing at the hand that's now empty, on its way back from my pocket. Chewing very unlady-like, Santana raises her eyebrows waiting for a response.

"Nothing," I dismiss it.

"You're not actually thinking about calling her..." Santana comments, shaking her head, and I take my first bite of the delicious food.

I laugh, "chill the fuck out, Santana. It's just in case I need to talk."

"She's Quinn's friend, Rachel. That'd be so wrong."

I ignore it and go back to eating.

Hey becomes my fuck-buddy, for lack of a better term. I couldn't say friends with benefits, because we are not friends. As long as no one gets too attached we're good, because I can't afford to start liking another girl when I'm still hung up on my ex. Hardcore.

She usually leaves before I'm awake now. The first time was a one-time thing. It is important - to both she and I - that Mike isn't up and in the kitchen when she leaves. She met him that Sunday all by herself and it had been awkward because he remains a Team Quinn. They know each other for years, so his side is obvious (and apparently everyone forgets that she ended things with me).

It's another three weeks after that when I see Quinn again. This time I make it a point that she sees I see her but am purposefully avoiding her. So I do want her back, but my ego is a little bruised and I can be a bit stubborn at times. I have my dignity to think of here.

Barely raising her cup of coffee from where she is, is her way of acknowledging me.

The bitch.

Soon, she's looking back at her book, sitting on her corner of the coffee shop (that was mine first, but whatever).

There is a heavy weight on my chest. I turn, before even ordering, and make way for the door. A song begins speaking loudly over the speakers. Of course it'd be this song. My hand hovers over the door handle only for the introduction of our damn song. I look torward Quinn, who's already looking at me with pained eyes, brimmig with tears carrying apologies and pityness in them. I'm out of there as the singer begins; it's impossible to hear If You're Wondering If I Want You To (I Want You To) and not be assaulted by so many of our memories together.

I think I better leave right now

Before I fall any deeper

I think I better leave right now

I'm feeling weaker and weaker

Somebody better show me out

Before I fall any deeper

I think I better leave right now

The song is on repeat. It's my life's anthem at the moment. I've made the decision, after two and a half months of not being with Quinn that I need to just get out of this - whatever we're in.

I've made a decision and I'm sticking with it.

The pictures finally come down.

"When was the last time you actually talked though?" Kurt insists, over a bite of his sandwich, and three other familiar caring eyes stare at me waiting for a response. Sitting around the small round table are Jesse, Blaine, and Kurt. It's late evening, and we're grabbing dinner before going to the show. Blaine has to get to a night class after this, but he usually eats with us for Kurt.

I think about it. "At a party, maybe three months ago? We had broken up a month before."

Blaine reaches across the table, seeking my hand and I give it to him, "Honey, I think it's time you move on. I love Quinn - we all do, but -" he sighs, heavily. It's like he thinks he has to be the bearer of the bad news.

"I'm trying," I say, defensively, frown, and pull my hand away. I wrap my fingers around my Veggie Wrap, and take a large-sized bite. "I'm trying really hard," I reiterate, speaking while chewing.

"Chew first; talk later, Chip." Jesse says, tapping his fingers on the table. He's been done with his salad for a while.

I groan, feeling like a child, "whatever." I mumble. I've been constantly this angry since the break up. I was not this fucking sad before, and I blame Quinn for breaking me significantly.

"Babe," Jesse says, softly, and my eyes lift from the table to his. "Just take it slowly. Let's all go out tonight for drinks. Maybe you can invite that girl you've been seeing."

"Not seeing - fucking." Kurt corrects him before I even have the chance to agree or disagree with his plans.

"Cheers," I say sarcastically in my best British accent and raise my cup of tea. Quinn hates tea. She would probably not kiss me until I brushed my teeth after drinking this. My train of thought just makes me lose my appetite and I drop the wrap on the basket they serve it on. "I don't know, Jesse..." I don't want to invite Hey along. She's not supposed to be complicated. She's supposed to be an easy lay.

"Come on, even if you don't invite your fuck-buddy, bring a friend. I want to go to the Stonewall. I've been single longer than you." He smiles, that charming smile and I regret my decision already.

"Hey, is this Gaea?" I ask as soon as the connection is made.

She chuckles on the other side and guesses, "Rachel. You finally make use of my number."

Santana and Britt are out on a date night, and I can't invite Hey out. Not options: Quinn, for obvious reasons; Tina, because Mike would be upset; Mercedes because Sam also took Quinn's side.

The show just ended, it's almost 11 PM, and I'm in fresh clothes: a dark long-sleeve shirt with a gray scarf around my neck. I grab my favorite leather jacket from the chair, and sit on the couch in my small dressing room to tie my shoes. I can't at the moment, because of the phone, so I cross a leg over the other and focus on the conversation. "Are you busy tonight?" I go straight to the point. I'm not asking her out on a date (technically I am, but well).

"Not doing anything extremely important," she responds. "Why?"

"Some friends and I are going out for drinks at The Stonewall. I was wondering if you, maybe, wanted to come with me."

"Rachel Berry, are you asking me out?"

"Sure," I admit easily. "I can ask you out, right? Friends do that."

I can practically hear her smirk on the other side. "I was always under the impression you didn't like me very much..." she admits.

I concede, "I didn't. Not when I thought you wanted my girl - ex-girlfriend. But you are a beautiful girl, and I don't feel like going alone, so will you or will you not come?"

She's silent for a few seconds and then says, "I'll meet you there."

Just as I'm making my way up to the entrance, Gaea shows up in a ridiculously hot, little black dress with a dark coat, around the corner. I stop, near the door where a bouncer is scanning for IDs and appreacite the view. I lick my lips, and wonder how I ever not gave her much credit before. She can really clean up. Red lips are distracting, I note.

"Hi," she says from a few feet away.

"Hi, yourself." I say. "You look... Really good." I gulp visibly, and rake my eyes over her again, checking her out.

Moments like these, when I find myself in front of hot girls (even if they're not my usual type: blonde, tall, hazel eyes), I forget about a certain girl (blonde, tall, hazel eyes).

She smiles, eyes falling to the ground for a beat, and then she brings them right back up. "We should... Talk. Before going in. To be sure where each of us stands. So it doesn't confuse anyone."

This is what I was dreading when I had thought about calling her earlier. Of course she's also going to be on Quinn's side of this entire ordeal, and she's about to ditch me, but she didn't want to do so over the phone.

I'm getting colder standing outside and I'm in jeans and jacket, so I can only imagine how she feels. "We can talk inside?" I offer, not really fond of the idea of staying out here any longer. Inside will probably be loud and dark and maybe then she'll forget.

She shakes her head, "it'll be quick, I promise."

I nod, giving up, and follow her to lean against the wall of the establishment next to The Stonewall. "So." I say, biting my lower lip in expectation.

"I just want to know why you wanted to ask me out on a date."

"I told you -"

"I know what you told me. But Quinn, she's my friend. Well, she and I haven't talked in a while but I still consider her a friend."

"I thought you were seeing some dude," I say to try to get her to stop talking about Quinn.

She dismisses that quickly, "that dude was from ages ago." Not ages. They were together at the beginning of the last semester.

"I thought you were straight," I try again, and she responds just as quick as my first inference.

"I don't like labels. Stop trying to change subjects. I - I guess I'm asking what this is for you. A date with intent of another to follow, a one-night thing which ends with us on your bed, or a night which we'll each go back to our own and never speak of it again."

Too much pressure for one girl. I share a sly smile with her and try to seduce her with my vile ways, "Gaea, come on. There's no need to get all -"

It doesn't work because she interrupts me quickly. "It does. Because I don't want to be your rebound girl. And if that's all I am, I need you to tell me right now; give me a fair warning."

"You're not," I reassure her.

"Are you using me to get to Quinn?"

"No," I tell her. I had never considered Gaea as a potential girlfriend, probably because of me always thinking she had eyes for Quinn, but it seems like she didn't. "I don't know why I called you earlier, but now that you're here, I'm glad." I smile, and it seems to convince her because she smiles back and takes my hand, leading us to the door.

I follow behind, letting her drag me (usually I'm the one doing the dragging), and she says, "I've always thought you were cute and interesting but you were always googly-eyes at Quinn..." she nods at the bouncer who just lets us through - cutting in front of a long line - and I must look astonished because she laughs when she looks at me. "I'm kind of a regular here." She laughs again, before continuing. "Do you think Quinn will be pissed at me?"

"Yeah," I say without thinking. She stops walking to look at me and I quickly try to explain my answer. "Well, I don't know. But maybe you should talk to her about this anyway."

"It's just an outing," Gaea excuses us. "She has no reason to."

"And it's not like it's exclusive. I'm sure you're seeing other people."

"Totally. And you, too. We're just... hanging."

"Yeah, okay."

We stop talking and make our way to the bar together. She orders us both beer and I don't complain. The bartender cards her, and she provides a fake ID, while I smile behind her, looking coy.

The night is wonderful. After a few beers, and a couple of shots, I'm well on my way to Drunkville. Gaea is not as drunk as I am, but is getting there. Jesse tells me it's time to stop and swaps my current bottle of beer for a bottle of plain, boring, dull water. "Santana warned me that you'd act like this around alcohol," he mumbles mostly to himself but I hear him.

"Yeah, yeah." I say, "you were the one who wanted me to come out. Here I am!" I throw my arms up in the air with exaggerated actions.

"Okay," he says. "You're really doing a fine job in keeping any potential suitors away from me, since I have to keep babysitting you. I should've just let you sulk in your apartment one more night."

"Jesse," I whine. "You're never this mean to me." Gaea hangs onto my arm as we laugh at my stupid tone of voice. I look at her and her eyes shine.

"Because you're frustrating me," he tells me. "I'm going to go find the Wonder Twins so they can babysit you. This is getting fucking ridiculous."

I gasp at his cussing; he rarely does that.

Gaea pokes my cheek, "I think you made him mad."

I poke hers back, "I think you should leave with me."

"Mkay," she says and smiles.

The next morning, I wake up sore to the sound of Benji and Bandit scratching at my door. My head is killing me and I'm thirsty as hell.

Instead of getting water to parch my thirst, I decide that I want to take Gaea out for a nice breakfast where I can get tons of coffee. And by nice I mean omelets at that breakfast joint that San and I ran into her the other day. I know she likes there, and I like there. "Come on," I shake her shoulder and she barely opens her right eye, squinting with the sunlight hitting her eyes. "Let's go, I'm starving."

My white sheets barely cover her naked body. It's kind of a sight to see. I stare. She opens her eyes with a smirk and I blush. "You have a way of waking people up."

"Just pretty girls I bring home," I wink. "Seriously though. I never take them out to breakfast but I want to take you."

She gulps hard and stares me down, "really?" She doesn't hide her skepticism.

"Yes."

"Okay," she smiles. "I guess I can do free breakfast."

We pass by the dogs on our way out and Gaea stops to pet them. She does stop, but she doesn't linger. And I get a pang of missing Quinn because that girl loved spending hours with the babies.

Mike is in the kitchen, and he averts his eyes when we hold hands, "I'll walk the dogs."

And then it only gets awkward because we run into Quinn at the breakfast joint.

I immediately let go of Gaea's hand when I spot her. She's walking out of the place and we're just coming in. Her eyes fall to our hands, now in pockets. "Oh, hi." She blinks and I can read she's putting up a wall. "Rachel, Gaea." She sounds confused, and she looks betrayed, and I regret last night.

"Quinn," I say and step forward.

I bet Gaea is regretting the night before. "Hey, Quinn. We haven't spoken in a while, how have you been?"

"Why are you out with her?" Quinn asks me, throwing a dangerous glare at Gaea.

"Woah, Quinn." I tell her and put a hand up to keep her from doing anything stupid. "She's my friend. We're getting breakfast."

Her eyebrows quirk up with skepticism, her lips purse in a way I know she thinks I'm lying. "So there's nothing going on between you two?"

That's when I remember her telling me to 'go dance with a random' because it doesn't matter to her anymore. Or it shouldn't anyway. But here she is now,a couple months after our breakup, when I'm finally trying to move on, making a big deal about it. So what if I'm moving on with a friend of hers? She has absolutely no right to say anything about it at all. "If there is, it's none of your business." I tell her through clenched teeth.

"Listen, Quinn," Gaea starts. Quinn narrows her eyes in her direction. "I know this is kind of weird but -"

She chuckles, "weird? It's fucking weird! She hates you!" She says and gestures at us. "She's never liked you and now she's taking you out to breakfast?!" She gives half a smile and then nods once, "Yeah, okay. That's gonna last. I'm going to go now."

With another look, she puts on those damn aviators and walks away.


	2. Heartbreak Warfare (John Mayer)

It's really cold outside and my hair is wet. I forgot a scarf and I'm starving so I stop on my way to class to get a coffee and breakfast burrito at Fred's. I'm having a terrible morning and all I need is some good food and a hot drink.

My morning gets worse as I'm leaving because I run into Rachel and... Gaea. They're holding hands but then Rachel notices me and drops Gaea's hand.

"Oh, hi." I say, startled by the surprise. I can't bear to look at them. But I can't seem to look away. "Rachel, Gaea." Those fingers now buried in her pockets belong interlaced with mine. I know I was the one who broke up with her and I know I urged her to move on.

I fucking lied.

I'm not over it at all. It's selfish of me to not be with her and not want her to be with anyone else, I know that.

Rachel tries to take a step forward as she says my name and I try to ignore my body's response to her voice saying it. "Quinn." I avoid looking at her in the eye, too hurt to do so.

Gaea speaks next, and just having her acknowledge me is making me want to punch the daylights out of her. "Hey, Quinn. We haven't spoken in a while, how have you been?"

Before I can help myself, I'm asking Rachel a question that is not my business. Through clenched teeth, the words spill out, "Why are you out with her?" I'm jealous, but I'm out of control of my words at the moment. I throw Gaea a dangerous glare, one I reserve for those I despise. She seems to cower at my look.

Rachel steps in and puts up a hand. it hovers over my chest, not close enough to touch but close enough for me to miss it. "Woah, Quinn. She's my friend. We're getting breakfast."

I can't help the skepticism that pours out, my eyebrows irking in annoyance at being lied to. I know she's lying, "So there's nothing going on between you two?"

A flash of something crosses Rachel's eyes. At this point Gaea has been forgotten and all that exists in the world is Rachel and I. She seems angry when she reminds me, "If there is, it's none of your business." I know she's right but I don't back down. Something bigger than me has taken control. Rachel's heart belongs to me. Or it did, until I gave it back to her. Or rather, threw it at her. Damn, what did I do?

"Listen, Quinn," Gaea starts, trying to placate me. I'm standing with my feet apart and fists balled next to my side. "I know this is kind of weird but -"

Even to my own ears, I sound bitter. I chuckle, "Weird? It's fucking weird! She hates you!" I remember clearly the many times Rachel was ambivalent of Gaea because she thought Gaea liked me... and now this? It just doesn't seem to make sense in my brain. "She's never liked you and now she's taking you out to breakfast?!" I search Rachel's eyes for understanding, accidentally letting my sadness show as I half-smile at her, "Yeah, okay. That's gonna last. I'm going to go now."

Before I put on my sunglasses, I linger one last look on their standing forms. They look devastated. I walk around them, trying and failing miserably not to care that my good friend betrayed me, or that my ex didn't care enough to keep away from my friend.

As soon as I find myself on the street, my feet take off. Running. Breathless and disheveled, I arrive at Britt's, hoping to find comfort in a friend who I know will always be there for me.

I knock on her door obnoxiously, tears streaming down my face. I'm angry at myself for showing Rachel how much I care. And I'm fucking pissed at Rachel for where we are now. I feel like puking.

The door opens and I faintly register brown hair before crashing into someone's arms. "Gaea, huh?" She asks me in a tone of voice that gives away she knew of this development and kept it from me to protect me. It makes me both mad and happy. I cry in her arms for the first time. This has never happened before since Santana doesn't like it, and usually neither do I. But, we'e grown closer to each other even after the breakup - she's never let her friendship with Rachel affect ours. "The bitch," she murmurs, and even without her saying it out loud, I understand she's inferring to both her best friend and her new girlfriend. Without letting me go she closes the door behind me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. Sorry about barging in, crying, being weak, letting her go.

She shushes me, running a hand down my back, "I know. I know, she's sorry too, you know? This is how she deals..."

I'm sure she means to make me feel better but instead I flare up. "If she's sorry why did she move on?" I practically scream at her, asking for an answer I don't really want. I know why.

She detangles herself from me only enough to look me in the eyes. She holds me at arm's length and I can see she's afraid I'll run out on her. "You told her to," she whispers, almost as if in pain for me; for us. "You practically threw her at Gaea's arms. She didn't want to. She's always wanted you - from the very beginning. Gaea was a way to mend a broken heart. Maybe you should-"

"No." I interrupt her. "Don't tell me to go talk to her. I can't. It hurts to just be around her. To look into wide brown eyes that read me like a book."

"You should talk to her," she reinforces, stressing the word 'talk' and giving my arms a light, encouraging squeeze.

I don't really want to hear any of it. At this, I pull back from her and cross my arms around myself, "where's Britt?"

"She had an emergency class to taken over for one of her professors," she says, looking annoyed that I'm trying to change subjects. She crosses her arms too, and purses her lips before saying, "I know her better than anyone." Her voice is cold, in a one-eighty shift from when I got here. It's taken a protective quality - edgy, threatening, quiet. "And she is my best friend. What she's doing with Gaea is not wrong - you told her to and you're broken up. You have been for almost four months now; you can't be upset." I shift my weight, anger rising within me. I wanna yell at her, but before I can, she continues, "It's not wrong but it's fucking dumb. Everyone ends up hurt and frankly, I'm tired of seeing her hurt others and herself." We both take steadying breaths before she finishes, "So, do something. And do it fast."

It's another two days before I talk to Santana again.

Of course I was mad at her! If there's one thing I have a lot of is pride. And she took my pride, stabbed it, and twisted the knife at it.

And fuck if I say I don't know what I did wrong. I did. I should've fought for Rachel when I had the chance; when I had her; when she wanted me. I hastened in the decision of breaking up with her when I had proof from previous moments that our love was strong and it could handle anything.

I blamed Rachel of coasting through the relationship but the truth is that I was the one who quit too early. I got tired and checked out.

Not having Rachel was hard. Pretending I didn't want to talk to her, not wanted to see her? Telling her to go find someone else?! I didn't think she actually would. I'm the one supposed to fucking move on fast. She's wasn't supposed to.

Well, she did and I didn't.

Joke's on me, isn't it?

"Stop it," Santana says from across the small table in the library. Without looking up at me, she tells me, "I can hear you beating yourself over what happened. Just stop it and get your girl back."

"Isn't it too late now?" I ask. I'm self-conscious. Who says she'll want me now after all the heartache I've caused her because I'm selfish?

I have no reasoning for it. What if I only want her back now because Gaea has her and I'm upset?

No. That's not true. Rachel and I belong with each other.

Santana sighs and adjusts the black-rimmed glasses on her nose, "Q, please. I'm trying to study. I have finals coming up and so do you. I can't study with Britt because she wants to have sex all the time. I can't study with Rachel because she's been moody all the time; or she's with-" she stops herself and I look away to gain control of my emotions. "And apparently I can't study with you! I only have three friends - the Wonder Twins and Mike don't count, alright? Anyway, please, let me just work on my fucking review?"

I gulp, getting ready to apologize.

Then she says, "it's never too late, you idiot."

My plan is flawed. My plan is fucking cliche, if I've ever seen one. My plan is actually a rip-off of her plan. Except I know that she enjoys being serenaded and big romantic gestures. Before we talk, I need to give her a reason to give me another chance.

I'm fidgeting with my fingers when Sam walks into the practice room I reserved in the music building.

"Hey," he says, curious tilt to his head. "Is everything okay?"

I smile as I hand him the chords to the song. "I plan on getting my girl back. It's an ultimatum kind of song. I was wondering if you'd play it for me."

He beams and pulls the guitar around his torso, figuring out chord patterns and which sounds better which way. After a while looking it over, he nods and says, "Sure, Q. We can totally pull this off."

"There's an open Mic happening at the Union this weekend. Do you think we can be ready by then? Santana said Rachel's singing then, and so I know she'll be there."

He sits on the piano bench and strums the first chord, "Let's practice this, shall we?"

"Just so you know, I'm proud of you for doing this, Q." Britt tells me as she runs her fingers over my hair, messing it up on purpose. I'm wearing a white dress with a light red cardigan with the buttons undone over it.

I'm nervous, thinking of the lyrics again.

And yeah, I'm not sure I've forgiven Rachel one hundred per cent about Gaea and where we are, but I have fault to share. "Proud of what?" I ask, not really listening to her as I should be.

She hands me the black eyeliner and sits on the vanity, facing me. I start to apply the eyeliner, opening my mouth slightly so. Her knees are at my shoulder's height, and she keeps swinging her legs, lightly hitting my knees in rhythm.

"Proud of you going after Rachel," she says as if it's just that simple. "I think it takes guts to admit you messed up."

"Yeah," I mumble. "Am I an asshole?" I ask, after my right eye is done.

"A little, you know?" She giggles behind a hand. The other pushes some of her bangs away from those blue eyes. "But, love is greed. You gotta be a little selfish sometimes."

I purse my lips, look at Britt who's smiling at me, and then at my reflection in the mirror. "Why couldn't I have just kept her with me when I had her? Why did I have to fucking break her heart to realize I want her?"

With a sad smile she tells me, "you know, sometimes we make mistakes. You're human, babe. You got confused. It happens."

That's not necessarily what I was wanting to hear, but I'll take it.

When I come in the big room, the first person I look for is her. She has to be here, Santana said she'd be here.

"Quinn?" Someone calls out behind me.

I turn, immediately angry at the voice, and am met with someone I hadn't expected to see here.

"Gaea." I should've known.

I feel my entire body tighten. I want to punch her! How dare she come up to me! She must be insane. She's asking for a slap across her face. My jaw hurts with how hard I'm clenching it.

"Please," she puts up her hands and then smiles, "before you kill me, will you just hear me out?"

"There's nothing you have to say that I could possibly want to hear," I say and start to make my way around her. She stops me by the elbow and it takes everything in me not to end her right there.

"What's going on here?" Rachel. I whip around to see her upset brown eyes darting between Gaea's hand on my elbow and my eyes. I can see burning passion in them, but I'm not sure if it's still for me. "Let her go, Gaea." With the order, my arm is released, and the opposite hand goes to my elbow to caress it.

"I was just trying to speak to her about the situation," Gaea turns to Rachel, who grabs her hand and interlaces their fingers. It hurts. It takes my heart and it twists it. I can feel it tear. I guess Rachel had time since Sunday to make a decision about Gaea; she didn't seem so sure on Sunday.

"I don't care about what you have to say," I tell her once again and then face Rachel. "Rachel," my tone is assertive, "can we go talk?" My eyes beg her to come with me, they need her to come along. "Please."

"That's funny, Quinn," she says, lighthearted and really fucking sarcastic. "I quite recall trying to talk to you at a party early in the semester - after seranding you - and you walking away. Now I have nothing to say to you." Her eyes narrow, and the passion that was in there is gone.

Within me, rage. "You know what? Fine. Just -" Damn it. I don't want to stutter. I don't want to give in how affected I am by the turn of events. Rachel didn't wait for me. She took advice I gave her. What was I thinking, expecting a girl like Rachel to never move on from me?

"I'm sorry," Gaea tells me, looking truly apologetic. "I know you don't want to hear it but I really am. I hope we can get over this and be friends again one day."

I scoff, cross my arms, and look away. God, where's Santana when I need her? Anyone really, to get this bitch away from me before I fucking stab her. Why is she so perfect? I can't deny it that she is gorgeous, all tan skin and light eyes. She's nice, too. Sure, she's Brutus but she's got a conscience.

"Let's go take a seat," Rachel speak to Gaea's ear, softer than the tone she had been using earlier. "I'm up first, so-" Rachel seems to have trouble focusing again and then looks at me, knives in her glare. "I'll see you around."

I still can't bear to make the eye contact. I wait until Rachel takes Gaea away to their table near the front. From where I am standing, I watch in pain as they smile at each other. Gaea caresses Rachel's arms, comforting her, it seems. The touches, the looks, inside jokes, stolen kisses which were meant for me being given away to Gaea.

Forget serenading her. Maybe I should take my own advice and find someone else.

The only reason why I stayed is because Santana and Britt forced me. They're making me sing. They're making me watch Rachel sing. "Painful? I don't give a fuck. You made me sign you up and - Q, you're here! Might as well."

"Fine, whatever. But I'm changing songs. And you're singing with me," I poke an index finger into Santana's shoulder.

"Fuck no. I'm not gonna go up there with my best friend's ex and sing a song." She exchanges looks with Britt and then says, "She'd be devastated. She already knows I don't like Gaea so she's pretty pissed at that. I - I just can't, Quinn."

"Alright, I won't force you. I'm gonna go find Sam now."

Maybe switching songs on him last minute won't be the best idea I've ever had, but I can't sing the song I had intended to sing anymore. The song I sing will have to be farewell.

I find him sitting at a table tucked away in a dark corner with Mercedes, the two softly singing Don't Go Breaking My Heart a cappella at each other. They are adorable and I finally have a smile on my face when I approach. "Hey, guys."

Mercedes grins and gives me a hug then forces me to sit. "Girl, I'm so proud of you!"

Well, this is awkward. "Actually," I start and bite my bottom lip. "That's kind of why I'm here. I need to ask you an immense favor, Sam."

Rachel, being Rachel, is first on the list to sing. She settles on a lone black stool in the middle of the makeshift stage and whispers something to the guitarist behind her. He smiles, laughs a little, and then nods.

A spotlight washes over her and for a minute I forget we're not speaking, we're not together. She looks beautiful. She's in her element. She looks happy. A pang brings me back to reality when I realize she is fine without me. Maybe better.

"It took me a while to pick a song to sing tonight. And then two days ago, it hit me. Brandi always has better ways to say the things I keep in my heart and mind. I swear, it's like the girl lives in my mind and probes my brain, writing the lyrics I feel belong to me." Some of the audience laugh and she smiles, carefully scanning the crowd with slits for eyes, the brightness of the spotlight making her blind.

"Anyway," she takes a deep breath and then nods again at the guy with the guitar, "here goes nothing." She begins singing with a nostalgic smile.

_This is how the story went_

_I met someone by accident_

_Who blew me away_

_Blew me away_

_And It was in the darkest of my days_

_When you took my sorrow and you took my pain_

_And buried them away, buried them away_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_

_When the day is done_

_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_

_But like everything I've ever known_

_You'll disappear one day_

_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_Dropped you off at the train station_

_Put a kiss on top of your head_

_Watched you wave_

_And watched you wave_

_Then I went on home to my skyscrapers_

_And neon lights and waiting papers_

_That I call home_

_I call that home_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_

_When the day is done_

_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_

_But like everything I've ever known_

_You'll disappear one day_

_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_Away, yeah_

_Woke up feeling heavy hearted_

_I'm going back to where I started_

_The morning rain_

_The morning rain_

_And though I wish that you were here_

_On that same old road that brought me here_

_It's calling me home_

_It's calling me home_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_

_When the day is done_

_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_

_But like everything I've ever known_

_You'll disappear one day_

_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_I can spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

My eyes are still brimming with unshed tears when the host calls out my name three performances later.

Ever since Rachel finished her song and sat back down next to Gaea - Gaea wrapping her arm protectively over the back of Rachel's chair - I haven't been able to look away. This is all so confusing. The lyrics to that song, the way Gaea is acting. Did I jump to conclusions?

I get up slowly, being encouraged by Britt's loud cheering.

I know Santana has been texting Rachel the entire time since the girl was done singing. By this point, the Latina looks extremely pissed off. I try not to think too much about that and make my way to the stool.

The stage manager guy wearing all black finds Sam a stool and a cord for him to plug in his guitar. Sam turns to the other guitar man and tells him the song we're doing and the key. The guy seems to understand and to know which song he's talking about which is good.

I take control of my emotions and hope I can stay in control the duration of the song. It's all I ask.

"Ready," I tell Sam.

He smiles back at me and counts us off.

_One night to be confused_

_One night to speed up truth_

_We had a promise made_

_Four hands and then away_

_Both under influence_

_We had divine scent_

_To know what to say_

_Mind is a razor blade_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

_One night of magic rush_

_The start a simple touch_

_One night to push and scream_

_And then relief_

_Ten days of perfect tunes_

_The colors red and blue_

_We had a promise made_

_We were in love_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_And you, you knew the hands of the devil_

_And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth_

_Sharing different heartbeats_

_In one night_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

"What the fuck was that, Quinn?" Santana asks, angrily, when I sit back down. I don't need to hear this again. I have a terrible headache and all I want is to get drunk and go to sleep. Too bad they're not serving alcohol since this is a school event, and not even Santana brought a flask.

"What?" I ask and my eyes go back to where Rachel is supposed to be sitting. She's not there. And neither is Gaea. Great, just perfect. I cross my arms in a bout of immaturity and lean back on my seat.

Santana shakes her head and narrows her eyes at me. Britt puts a hand on her shoulder and pulls her back to say something in Santana's ear. She gives me a sympathetic look and then says, "It's okay, Q. Maybe we should leave, yeah?"

I nod at Britt, happy that someone is on my side. Santana doesn't seem happy with this turn of events and snaps her had to Britt, "Why are you on her side?"

"I'm right here." I tell her as if she didn't know.

"I know," She tells me, "do you think I can't fucking see you over there?" Then she looks back at Britt. "She could just fix this by talking to Rachel but she just keeps stabbing her -"

I stand, enraged, slam my hands open on the table, "talk?! I tried talking. She doesn't want to hear it right now. I don't think she ever will." Britt's eyes look sad and then she slowly looks around us to let me know that people are staring at my outburst. "You guys stay, seriously." I tell Santana. "I'm going home."

Britt comes after me, I hear her chair scrape against the floor, but then Santana mumbles something about letting me go, and Britt does.

I feel extremely alone.

As soon as I step out the building, I feel the warm air slap my face. I'm feeling really dumb right about now, and I don't think I've ever disliked myself as much as I do now.

Smoking sounds like a good idea. I've only ever smoked once before, and it was awful; my lungs burned and I coughed like crazy. Except that I'm so stressed, shaking, angry, that I feel like it's the only thing besides an orgasm that'll snap me out of it.

I don't have a cigarette, so instead, I gulp down the desire, and start walking back to the cheerleading house on the other side of campus.

I'm not looking straight ahead and end up bumping into a body.

I apologize profusely, as the person pulls up their right foot off the ground and cradles it in their hand. "It's fine," they reassure me.

Making eye contact, I realize how beautiful this girl is. "Hey, I'm so sorry." I say again. "Really, I wasn't looking, I've been kind of not myself late-"

"You're Quinn Fabray," she says and stops me from the rant. I nod and bite my bottom lip. I'm used to people knowing who I am by now. If not as head cheerleader, as Rachel Berry's ex. "I just heard you singing in there," the brunette tells me. She points back at the building where the lights are still dimmed, and says, "you're good."

"Thank you," I shake my head, feeling the blush coming on my cheeks. "I - well, nice to meet you... um?" I ask, extending a hand at the stranger. I feel an instant connection to her, or at least an attraction. It's dark out, and there aren't a lot of students walking around.

The girl takes my hand with both of hers and shakes it a little too enthusiastically, but I've never had anything against enthusiasm. "Sarah. My name's Sarah Martin."

"Sarah, right." I repeat (I can't help myself) and I like the way the name sounds on my tongue.

Sarah pulls out a cigarette from her pack in her ripped jeans' pocket and offers one to me, "smoke?"

It's like the girl can read my mind. I smile and take one from the pack, holding it awkwardly in my fingers. "I don't usually smoke," I admit before I can help myself. I look up at the sultry brown eyes. "This is only my second time." If Rachel saw me now, she'd be so furious. She's always hated smoking because of what it can do to a person's voice (besides all of the other dangers).

Sarah asks, "having a bad night?" She lights mine first and then her own, and places her free hand on her back pocket as she drags in.

I eye her and take a drag too, feeling lightheaded and a little dizzy with the way it fills my lungs. I cough into my fist and then look at her, a little embarrassed. "Try a bad year." She laughs at my statement and I cringe at the way I made myself sound. "Sorry, I'm like, super depressing right now." I apologize to Sarah once again tonight, and she just continues laughing as she smokes.

"Dude, I've yet to meet a pretty girl like you who isn't broken on the inside." Dude. She called me a dude. Usually I'd be offended. If it were a guy, I'd definitely be offended, but there's an easiness to Sarah that makes me smile. Besides, she said I'm pretty. She continues, all nonchalant, "you can tell me - was it a guy who broke your heart?"

She doesn't know who I am, I realize. Well, she knows I am Quinn Fabray, obviously, but probably only from when the host called out my name to sing. She has no idea of Rachel and she doesn't know I'm gay. Is she fishing? Or is she just really trying to know?

"Do you not go here?" I ask instead.

She gives me a half smile, "No. I go to NYU. My friend insisted I come tonight. I had just stepped out to smoke when you attacked me." She jokes and at first I'm caught off guard. When I look up at her with wide eyes and the cigarette dangling from my lips, then I realize she's kidding.

"Attacked you?" I shriek, laughing. I puff out some smoke and cough again, but already getting the hang of doing this. "I did not attack you. It was an accident and I apologized."

She hums, and quirks an eyebrow. Well, damn, she's really attractive. She has an exotic quality to her. I try to shake away these thoughts. I always find myself attracted to the hot brunettes, with exotic eyes, and tan skin. "You're staring. That's kind of rude if you don't tell me you like what you see." She's pretty straight forward, and I like that too.

"I like what I see," I admit quietly and throw the stub of the cigarette on the ground. I stomp on it with the bottom of my shoes and she does the same. "Where are you from? Like, ethnicity-wise."

"I'm part Indian, part French." She tells me and runs a hand through her long, wavy, brown hair. It reaches down to her ass. She's wearing a cut off white shirt, and I notice how toned her arms are. "My mother was from Bombay, and my father is from Nice, South of France."

"Ah," I say, incredibly curious to know more about her. "That's a good mix. Really good," I mumble and look away from her eyes for just a second. To breathe.

"What about you?" She asks. "Where are you from?" I catch her staring at my lips for a second longer than really appropriate and feel heat rush throughout my body. Damn it.

I hear loud voices coming from the building. It seems like open mic night is over as people and more people start coming out of the place. "I'm from Ohio. I honestly don't know much about my heritage?" It comes off more like a question and she shrugs. "Irish, I'm guessing?"

She scuffs the front of her worn out converse on the pavement as she says, "I'm from Texas." I smile, thinking that's kind of neat.

"You don't have an accent," I point out. "A Southern accent. And you're not..."

"What?" She asks, frowning while she smiles, "please don't say 'cowgirl.' Oh my god!" She laughs when I look guilty. "Not everyone from Tejas is a cowperson. In fact, you've yet to meet someone who dislikes country as much as me."

I think of Santana and how that's probably not true, and nod along, "so you've never ridden a horse to school?"

She clenches a hand over her heart and gasps for air, "holy fuck. Be more stereotypical, please." She thinks really hard and then says, "damn it, I can't think of anything to make fun of you for." The chatter outside is getting louder and I turn, looking for a familiar face - Santana, Britt... Rachel. I don't even know why I'm looking. I'm actually having a lot of fun with Sarah, but I can't help it. "Are you waiting for someone?" She asks and nods toward the crowd gathered in front of the university union.

"Nah," I say. "Just - my friends are kind of upset with me at the moment and I just- I - well," awkward cough.

"It's fine, dude. I have to go," she tells me and checks the time on her phone. "But, it'd be kind of sweet if I could have your number. You know, to text you or call if I'm ever around here again." She offers me her phone and I take it, a weird twist in my stomach. It's been a while since I gave someone my number like this. With second intentions behind mine and their actions.

I smile as I punch in the number and warn her, "you better use it."

She says, "duh," as if it's something she was going to do anyway, and I like her more for it.

I'm not expecting a call when I get back from working out. I pull out my phone from my pocket to check who's calling and smile. "Hello?" I pick up, grinning.

"I'm around," she says simply.

It's Monday afternoon. Two days since the open mic event that I met her. "You come around here often?"

"I didn't, but I have a reason now," she tells me and I hear her sigh, "so are you free to grab lunch with me?"

"Have you ever had Indian food before?" She asks as she holds the door open to this small Indian restaurant near campus. I shake my head, shy and slightly embarrassed. She smiles, "first time for everything." Her lips are a bold red and I find myself staring.

We settle at the table the hostess takes us to and I ask for a water with lemon. She asks for tea and I try not to groan out loud. "I really hate tea," I tell her conspiratorially.

"Fuck," she says with wide eyes. "Does that mean I don't get a goodbye kiss today?"

I gulp, caught off guard by her wanting to kiss me. "Is that what you were expecting out of this?" I ask. My cheeks are warm and I look at her under lashes, trying to gain some composure. She laughs out loud and ignores my question with a sideways look. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at her.

"You're cute," she tells me, looking right into my eyes.

I giggle, "people usually don't call me cute."

"I don't know why; you are. Sexy, too. Definitely attractive. But cute, endearing." She smiles again and reaches for the tea the waitress leaves on our table. We give the waitress our orders and she leaves.

Looking from her hand around the cup of pee-colored tea to her eyes, I find myself wishing she was Rachel telling me those things. And it's the first time it's happened ever since I met her - for me to compare her to Rachel and wish it was my ex instead. I don't know how to react to what she said so I just smile and thank her awkwardly. If only my thoughts hadn't taken me to Rachel, maybe I wouldn't feel so awkward about being here.

She senses this, "so," she clears her throat, takes in a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and wiggles her eyebrows. "This reason why you've had a bad year... it's not a guy?"

"No," I admit, biting my lip. I don't care to elaborate on the Rachel aspect of it all, but tell her, "I'm not really over it." It's not outright 'you don't even have a chance,' because honestly? She does. In fact, I want to give her one if she'd take it. I want to want her; I want to want it. So it's more like silently asking her, begging her, pleading her, to wait just a while longer. I know we just met, but I know that this could be a good thing if only I gave it a go.

"I'm in no hurry," she tells me. And again she says the right thing. "I know how badly heartbreaks hurt."

"You do, huh?" I ask.

She laughs and says, "never seen a girl as pretty as me who isn't a little bit broken on the inside." It's what she told me when we first me. I laugh at her confidence, though I find it incredibly hot, and she continues, "you wanna talk about it?"

"Honestly?" I ask and purse my lips, "not really." I sigh, "it's way too dramatic and stupid, and not worth my time anymore."

The waitress is approaching us with a basket of bread - naan, I think it's what's called. Sarah just looks at me and then at the basket and asks, "you've never had Naan? Here," she practically shoves a piece of the flat bread at me, "try it."

"Quinn?" There she is, holding herself in an embrace that shows how vulnerable she is to be here. I applaud her for coming to me again, after the long journey we both have been on. She looks fragile, almost like she's not herself.

I'm in the gym, in my cheerleading outfit, checking inventory before we close the storage unit for the summer. My gaze doesn't seem to want to move away from hers, but I clear my throat and turn away. "Yes? How can I help?"

She scuffles closer, I can feel it. "I - just." She sighs, taking a deep breath right after and says, "Gaea and I are not together. Not anymore. I mean, not since that morning you saw us getting breakfast." She giggles to herself. "We lasted less than a day together. We're better off as friends."

"Are you done?" I ask, turning around with a large box in my hands.

She hurries closer, "do you need a hand?"

"No, that's okay." I can see her face fall but I will myself not to care. "Look, Rachel -" I set the damn box back down and shut my eyes. "Did you go for Gaea to purposefully hurt me or- I don't know. Are you here because Santana told you about Sarah?"

At this piece of information she perks up, "Sarah? Who's Sarah?" She looks worried, picks on the cardboard of a box nearby.

I only give her a look as a response.

She nods and says, "I don't think I can do this anymore-" she waves between us. "Not being close to you, not being your friend. It's awful. It hurts and I hate it. I apologize for how Saturday went down but please, Quinn, can we at least be friends?"

I put both hands on my hips and look at her. Well, I miss her. And summer's coming, which means we'll probably be apart. It's best to be apart but be 'friends' than have all that distance between us emotionally and physically. I sigh since I'm tired of being upset too, "of course we can be friends. I'm sorry too." Stepping closer, I cross my arms. "I'm sorry for the cold treatment."

"You had every right to - you weren't happy in our relationship anymore."

"Rachel, I - it was partly my fault too."

"Yeah," she admits softly. "I don't know, if we ha-"

"No. Let's not go there, okay? It'll only bring heartbreak for us both again." Looking at her eyes, seeing her lips - god, I miss her. It's like even when I can't stand her around me, I can't get enough of it. This is so difficult. I break the eye contact.

She relents, "you're right. Um, so I'll see you around?" She starts to walk backwards, and I watch her.

I grab the box again, "yeah, I'll see you." Before she steps through the double doors, I stop her. "Rach?"

She turns, her hair dancing around her head, and she asks, hopeful, "yeah?"

"How are the boys?" I ask. I know how they are. I keep in touch with Mike and he usually lets me know how Bandit and Benji are doing. Sometimes we even hang out at a park, the four of us. I guess I ask to let her know I still care, and that I miss them. All of them.

She smiles, and the way her nose scrunches when talking about them makes my heart melt, "the boys are doing great. They're amazing."

"Yeah. Well, okay. See you."

She leaves.

"Summer before senior year, Q. Excited?" Britt asks from her spot near the headboard of my bed. I'm packing to go home. I'm going to visit my sister and little Lea, spend some time with the family. Hopefully see about forgetting a girl as a lover and think of her as a friend.

"Well," I start. "Rachel came by yesterday."

Instantly, Britt's on her knees in front of me. "What did she want? What did she say? What did you say? How did it go? How did you feel? Did you guys make it up?"

"Woah- chill, Britt. Let's go slow here. She apologized. And she wants us to be friends."

"Well? What did you say?"

"I said of course."

"Do you mean it?" She smiles broadly, like this is her life we're talking about.

I smile too, albeit not as enthusiastically. "I did - I mean, I do. I just hope that's enough."

To say I'm surprised is an understatement, but I definitely don't mind. "Hey, what are you doing here? In the neighborhood again?" I'm folding t-shirts to put them in my suitcase.

Sarah walks in my room with boxes around, clothes strewn over furniture and looks. "If you don't mind, I asked around where I could find you." She picks up a picture of me and Santana in matching uniforms and looks at it with interest. "Your ex?"

I laugh, "no! Definitely not." I look at the picture and I remember that Rachel took it of us on Santana's first game cheering with us. "That's my ex's best friend actually. Now her and I are good friends."

She sets the picture back down and picks up a picture of Mike, Britt and I this time. "You have hot friends."

"Don't I know. It's such a problem, really."

She says, "new friends, especially. Like, way hot new friends." Irking an eyebrow as a challenge, she comes closer.

"Yeah, well, only some of them." She steps even closer.

"I like you, you know," she confesses and my stomach flips. With another step and a delicious smirk, I find myself hoping she kisses me. She's just the right height where I don't have to awkwardly reach higher or lower. "I can't stop thinking about you, ever since we met."

I gulp, "you can't?" I have been thinking about her a lot too, when I'm not thinking about Rachel.

"No, I can't." She grabs the current orange shirt I have in my hands. Our fingers touch and I shiver. "'Scuse me," she says with a tilt of tone of voice, and drops the shirt on the floor of my room.

My breath hitches when she runs her hands down my sides to my hips. "What are you-" before I finish the sentence, Sarah leans forward and presses her lips to mine. I hum in approval and feel her tug me closer. Her thumbs circle my hipbones and her right hand ventures under my shirt and to my back. It sends tingles everywhere.

My hands that were limp next to me are now running up her neck, grabbing onto her hair. Her tongue drags out and licks my bottom lip. I open my mouth and our tongues dance. "I wanted to do this since that night," she admits.

I nod, "you should have." Our kiss breaks naturally and when I open my eyes, hers are still closed, she's smirking.

"That was - everything I imagined it'd be and more."

"I'm glad you came by," I say and run my fingers through her hair.

She smiles again, her lips inviting me to kiss her again. When we pull away, she says, "you're leaving for the summer so I wanted to say goodbye. It's too bad we just met."

My entire body stiffens in her arms. "I - I. Well, Sarah, I can't do a long distan-"

"Dude," she says and picks up her hands. "Nobody's talking about long-distance. I have been thinking about you nonstop, but I'm not trying to ask you to be my girlfriend while you're away. If I still can't stop thinking about you when you're back though, I wouldn't be imposed in trying a relationship then. Short-distance," she finishes and pecks my lips.

Giggling, relieved and a little embarrassed, I ask her, "want to go out with me tomorrow?"

Santana is braiding Britt's hair on the floor of her room when someone knocks on the door.

"I'll get it," I tell them and get up from the chair in front of the desk. Neither looks at me but they both mumble a thanks.

I cross the room and open the door and Rachel's on the other side, smiling. Her smile falters when she sees me. We usually don't run into each other like this at Santana's because we always text her to ask if it's alright to come over. Apparently there was no questioning today.

"Oh, hey." She smiles again, even though I know this to be forced. "Didn't expect to see you here today."

"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon to go home," I tell her but I don't know why.

I know Santana and Britt are paying attention to us now because they stopped talking altogether. Rachel looks over my shoulder and greets them, "hey, guys." Then she looks at me, "are you... Going to let me in?"

I step aside and she comes in, sitting on the same chair I was sitting before. "I didn't know you knocked to come over now."

"It's better to knock than to be surprised by those two. You know that."

Everyone laughs. It's akward but we're trying. The tension is still tangible.

"What's up, Rachel?" Santana asks and goes back to the braiding. We exchange a look and then Britt and I exchange a look.

Rachel's biting on the inside of her cheeks when she tells Santana. "Oh, nothing. I was just - I came over hoping to talk to you but you're busy and I don't want to impose." She swirls around on the chair and faces Santana's laptop. It's open on her tumblr. page and she starts scrolling.

"Fuck off, you know I'm always available for talking. Do you want to go grab a pizza?" She finishes the braid and kisses Britt on the temple. "You don't mind if I go, right, babe?"

"You go, Q and I will give each other manicures!"

Obviously now I want to know what Rachel wants to talk to Santana about, but instead I pretend I don't care. "That'd be lovely, Britt."

Rachel stands and looks at me, "sorry for intruding in on your time with them."

I frown, "What? Rachel, she was your friend first. I don't mind sharing. Besides, we're kind of friends now... So, you know, don't apologize. I'll have Britt, who, we all know, I like better than that one anyway."

Santana flicks me off and Britt kisses her cheek before getting up. She extends a hand to Santana and pulls her off the floor and then pats her on the butt. "Off you two go."

Rachel opens the door and Santana slips through, "bye." Rachel says and slams the door behind her. She seemed so unlike herself. And that's always weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs are: Brandi Carlile - Hiding My Heart, and Jose Gonzales' cover of Heartbeats.


	3. Basket Case (Sara Bareilles)

Whoever this Sarah is... I don't fucking like her.

I know I have no right to that, especially since Quinn and I are now "friends," or so she says, but I can't help it. I feel like I might throw up the moment I hear some other girl's name being spoken by Quinn's lips.

Ever since going to the gym to make peace with Quinn, I have been trying to forget Sarah. And trying hard. I had Hey over a couple of times and we've had fun, but it's not the same as it was when I was just plain angry.

Now I'm angry and scared.

The more I think about it, the less I remember why Quinn and I aren't together anymore. But we have already been through this and I have to respect her choice to break up with me. But fuck, if it doesn't hurt. It hurts daily, and sleeping with a girl after another is clearly not helping. Without Quinn, sex is just two sweaty bodies on the same bed.

It's hard getting over Quinn. Not just because she is literally everywhere on campus with the posters they put up for the Keep Calm film she was in last semester or because she is head cheerleader, but because she is friends with all my friends. That was my first mistake. She's a great person - why wouldn't they want to hang out with her, too?

Santana is the main culprit. Once she started cheering alongside Quinn, I feel like they have been closer friends than me and San. Maybe Santana will be able to explain to me why Quinn really broke up with me.

Maybe not.

I'm sure I've asked before.

I wouldn't be insisting so much on this if I wasn't sure that Quinn is also not over me. If she were over me, then she wouldn't look at me the way she does when we're in the same room. It feels like the room gets smaller and I can feel her hazel eyes follow my actions. I can almost taste the feel of her lips against my lips when we talk to each other. With what we had before, it's not such a crazy idea to believe that five months is not enough to forget someone. She was - is, she is my best friend.

And now, this Sarah girl comes around to fuck this up even more?

I can't stop thinking about this girl and what she might look like. Does she look even remotely like me? Because if she has long, brown hair and expressive brown eyes then Quinn just needs to admit to wanting me. Maybe she is the opposite - tall, redhead, blue eyes.

What does it matter? Trying to speculate about someone who doesn't even know I exist will do nothing but frustrate me more and give me a headache.

I need to have faith. Faith in what Quinn and I had. Faith that if it's meant to be, she'll come back to me. We'll find each other again. Without games, without regrets, without pressure. Without things that linger over us, like other girls' names.

When I get out of my head, I realize that this entire time I have been walking to my old dorm room - to Santana's current room she shares with a friend from her one of her Psych classes. I don't really know why my feet brought me here. I had no direction when I left the apartment I share with Mike. I thought that maybe I'd go to the park and sit to enjoy the crisp air of spring but apparently this Sarah thing has been bothering me more than I realized.

I take the elevator, because my ankle hurts a bit from landing wrong after a pirouette earlier this week, and I don't want to make it worse by taking the stairs when it's not necessary. The quietness of the elevator is not something I welcome, per se, because it allows all those thoughts about Quinn and Sarah back too quickly and too strong for me to really fight them.

I am thankful when the doors open. The hallway is familiar and I take in the smell of laundry detergent coming from the laundry room to my right.

It might be a minute or two that I stand in front of Santana's door, unsure if I should knock.

The white board on the door says "San is a bitch. -Q." and I realize how long it's been since I have been to our - I mean, Santana's dorm.

The knock is softer than I thought it'd be but it's not long before I hear a voice I recognize say "I'll get it," on the other side. Immediately, I feel a cold wave take over my body, from my feet up. I should have thought this through before coming here. I should have known that Quinn might be here since they're so close. I worry that I'm interrupting a double date maybe. Wouldn't that be so cute? Santana and Britt and Quinn and Sarah.

I try to prepare myself mentally. I put on a smile and expect the door to open, but even expectant my smile falters when my eyes land on Quinn. She's so beautiful. I should have texted as I usually do. Or did, since it's been so long since I've been here - months, probably.

"Oh, hey." I force a smile and then add, "didn't expect to see you here today."

"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon to go home," is Quinn's almost immediate response. It goes unsaid but I think she's nervous to see me. This is the first time we see each other since the talk at the gym where we said we'd be friends. And friends need to be cool around each other, despite the fact that I can't stop staring at her lips while she speaks. Over Quinn's shoulder I see Brittany sitting on the floor, between Santana's legs. She's braiding Britt's hair, but they're both frozen and staring. "Hey, guys." I greet them. Santana barely nods and goes back to braiding. It's not personal, I know. I bring my eyes back to Quinn, "are you... Going to let me in?"

I take a seat on Santana's empty chair once Quinn steps aside to let me in. I figure that Quinn's been sitting on it, but I don't want to seem like I am overthinking anything so I just let myself down on it.

Quinn comments as she sits on the edge of Santana's bed, near Britt, "I didn't know you knocked to come over now."

"It's better to knock than to be surprised by those two. You know that." It feels safer to joke, because the tension is tangible, and I'd rather have Quinn aughing than upset at me. Also, it's been too long since I've been here. Better to be polite.

"What's up, Rachel?" Santana asks, briefly looking at me before going back to her task. I see her share a look with Quinn, then Quinn share a look with Britt and I feel impossibly out of the loop.

It tastes like blood in my mouth because of how hard I'm chewing on the inside of my cheeks out of anxiety. "Oh, nothing. I was just - I came over hoping to talk to you but you're busy and I don't want to impose." I avoid eye contact with anyone else in the room, swirling Santana's chair away from them toward her laptop perked on the desk. It's open on her tumblr and the very first picture is of a girl in a very compromising position.

"Fuck off, you know I'm always available for talking. Do you want to go grab a pizza?" She finishes the braid and kisses Britt on the temple. "You don't mind if I go, right, babe?" I'm surprised and glad that Santana didn't hesitate. Had she done that, I would've made an excuse and left, but I'm no longer worried about being annoying.

Britt doesn't mind at all. I can see that she's hopeful, "You go, Q and I will give each other manicures!"

Quinn just softly smiles at Britt, "That'd be lovely, Britt."

I stand up and tell Quinn sincerely, "sorry for intruding in on your time with them."

She looks taken aback by my comment. "What? Rachel, she was your friend first. I don't mind sharing. Besides, we're kind of friends now... So, you know, don't apologize. I'll have Britt, who, we all know, I like better than that one anyway." I appreciate that she makes a joke because with every laugh I feel less tense.

Without even looking up at Quinn, Santana flicks her off and then Britt kisses her cheek before getting up. Santana helps Britt up from the floor before reciprocating the peck with one of her own.

I open the door and wait for Santana to grab her jacket and let her go first. "Bye," I say and let the door close off behind me.

"You alright?" Santana asks as we ride the elevator down to the lobby. She continues to press the button even though the elevator's already moving.

I roll my eyes at her impatience, but it's nothing new since she's always done this. "I'm fine." I say.

"If you are fine, then why do you look like you're about to throw up?" She doesn't even have to be staring at my face to be able to tell that I'm physically sick from thinking so much about Quinn with another girl.

The elevator dings and the doors open to a group of about three girls talking. I make eye contact with one with dark, short hair and smile. She smiles back, bashful, and then focus back on the conversation her friends are having as the door closes. "I -" I breathe, trying to not think so hard about the Sarah of it all.

Santana leads the way, and I follow a few feet behind, head down, hands behind my back. When we're outside the building, the light breeze picks up and it gives me the chill. I wrap my arms around my chest and catch up to Santana's pace.

"Rachel, seriously. You wanted to talk. Let's talk." We're walking to our favorite pizza place on campus. It's a short walk.

With one word I voice all my concerns. "Sarah," I say. Santana stops suddenly and turns to face me. There's pure horror stricken across her face. "I want to know about Sarah, San."

"Rachel, come on." She says, trying to persuade me not to go there. "Sarah is a no one." Her face is neutral once again when she tells me, "don't worry about her."

"San, you can't possibly be asking me not to worry about some girl Quinn brought up when we were talking!" I stop her by the arm, only a block away from the pizza place.

Santana sighs audibly and slowly extricates my hand from her wrist. Normally she would have pulled it away with force but I know she can tell how affected by this I am. "Rach," she uses my nickname carefully. I've never seen Santana so composed when I have been bratty to her. "okay. Since you asked."

"Yes. I'm asking." I let us resume on our walk. I am starving, I realize. We pass in front of other food places and the smells are only making me hungrier.

"Well, Sarah is a girl Quinn met that night with the open mic. They're like - into each other or something."

So my suspicions are confirmed. Thoughts I kept in the back of my head for fear that they'd be correct. Quinn doesn't do one-night stands, and if she likes someone, she really invests. She wouldn't waste time with someone she isn't truly interested in. "Have they kissed?" I ask next.

"Rachel!" Santana says, exasperation finally rising in her voice. "I don't see how talking about Sarah is going to help you at all. And didn't the two of you decide you'll try being friends anyway? What does it matter if Quinn's -"

"You know why it matters, San!" I let out. My outburst makes Santana stop walking. "Because I still fucking love her. And I can't bear the thought of her with another girl, much less kissing someone else!"

My best friend finally says, "hey," as she wraps her arms around my waist. I hug her back, both arms around her neck and let her pull me in. "I know, sweetie. I know. I -" Santana soothes me with her hands running up and down my back. "It's tough, Rachel. This is why I didn't want to tell you about Sarah. How did you hear about her anyway?"

"From Quinn herself. She thought you had mentioned her to me or something..." I mumble.

"Damn it, Fabray." Santana mutters at Quinn, even if she can't hear her. "I'm sorry."

I don't know how to respond to that sentiment. It's not like it's Santana's fault. She didn't shatter my fucking heart into pieces.

"But hey - the pizza smells delicious and we're not even in there yet." Santana opens the door and the smell hits us stronger than before. "And also, Quinn and Sarah aren't even dating. They just met. It's just a... thing."

"'A thing' is never a good thing, San." I don't want to break down further to the point of bawling but I can't help the tears that start coming down.

"I hate it that this is happening," Santana admits as she slowly lets me go to make sure I am okay. Her eye contact stays strong as I fidget to look away. She pulls my gaze back with a snap, "I hate seeing you heartbroken because of Quinn. I just want you to be careful so that it doesn't happen again."

I nod, letting her know I hear her. She opens the door for us and guides me with a hand behind my back. This is why I love her: although she likes to pretend she doesn't care, she does and when she loves someone she is fiercely loyal. "Thanks, San."

This place s one of those restaurants that you sit yourself, so Santana and I find a table by the window so we can people watch as we eat. The waiter recognizes us and as he approaches, he's already suggesting us with our preferred drink choices, "tea for you and Sprite for you, right?" He points at Santana and winks.

She rolls her eyes good heartedly and says, "yes, Freddie. Thanks."

"So," she focuses back on me. "you haven't really been around."

My eyes drop to the table. "I know. I'm sorry. You're just - always with her."

"Rachel." Santana's voice is borderline exasperated. "You're my best friend, no matter what." She seems a bit upset that I would ever consider that she would trade me for Quinn. "Fuck that," she throws in at last minute.

I don't say anything. Freddie brings our drinks and then hangs around our table while we finalize our selection. He assures us that the pizza will be out in less than ten minutes and then buzzes away to another table. "Okay, I realize that I might have disappeared a bit." I don't want to sound as childish as I know that came out. "I just needed some time..."

"From me?" Santana asks, taking a sip of her Sprite. "I'm not Quinn."

"I realize that, thank you very much. I already told you though: you guys are always together. Seriously."

"Just call me! Or text me. Just let me be here for you."

I look at her, and see her earnest want to help. "There isn't much you can do for heartbreak, Santana."

She laughs, even though it's not funny. "Don't I know that? But ice cream is a pretty good start."

There's still something in the back of my head, killing me. I try to avoid it as much as I can and we move on our conversation past Quinn. We get our pizza, and Santana makes a show of chewing it with her mouth open simply to irritate me but it doesn't bother me. I've missed her so much.

"I missed you, dork." I throw her the paper wrapper from my straw and it hits her right on the nose.

She doesn't say anything back. She shrugs and continues eating her pizza, but she looks up with a smirk that kind of lets me know she missed me just as much.

It certainly comes as a surprise when my phone rings and it's Quinn. At first I'm not sure if I'm seeing things right, so I stare. Then it hits me - pick up the phone. So I do. "He-" I clear my throat. "Hello?"

"Rachel, hi." Quinn says. She sounds nervous. I can hear the tremor in her voice and I wish it wasn't there when she spoke to me.

"Hi," I say back, dumbly. "How, um, how are you?"

She's hesitant. "I'm alright." She takes in a very deep breath. "I don't know why I called, honestly. In retrospect, it seems stupid." It's the first time Quinn calls me in months. We haven't talked on the phone like this in months. The admission that she doesn't know why she called pulls at my stomach. "I - think - I mean. I'm on my drive home. I couldn't stop thinking about you and how much of a bitch I've been. I think I'm calling to apologize."

That was even more unexpected than the call in the first place. "Oh."

"I know it's out of nowhere. But since I saw you at Santana's - it's just been there."

I'm at a loss for words and I let her know, "I don't know how to take this."

She exhales on the other side. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, again. I shouldn't have called. I don't want to lead y- never mind."

She's about to hang up, I know. I recognize the way she sounds when she feels like there's nothing else to say, so I stop her. "Wait."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for calling. And thank you for apologizing."

"Have a good summer break, Rach." She sounds relieved when she tells me that, and for the first time in five months, I feel like something has been lifted. Even after talking to her at the gym or seeing her at Santana's didn't bring this much... peace of mind.

I smile, "you, too. Tell your parents I said hi."

She doesn't hold in the chuckle and tells me, "mom's been asking when you're visiting again."

That's weird. "Doesn't she know... what happened?"

"No, she knows. She's just in denial. She seems to believe we belong together." Quinn telling me that doesn't help my belief that's quite similar to Judy's. "But you know - she still insists that despite, we should be good friends."

Friends. I didn't know I could dislike such a good word so much. "I - yeah, she's right. We should... try hanging out this summer?"

"Yeah." Quinn says. "Definitely. I could come down to Lima or something."

"You would drive there to hang out with me?" I question, and then shake my head. I sound too hopeful already and one can never be sure.

She is quick to reply, "of course." It sounds like she wants to add something else, but she doesn't. She keeps quiet and the conversation dies down.

"Well, alright. Yeah. I'll let you know when I go home to visit and you can visit Artie and San too." I need to make it obvious that we won't be alone, so she doesn't think I'm trying to make a date thing out of this.

"How's Spring Awakening?"

Hey, that's something I can talk about without cringing. "It's going great, actually. Thanks for asking. We are making tons of progress. Only last week we changed some choreography but I think it can only get better from there."

"That's amazing. I know you'll do great."

"Thanks," I mumble.

"I'm really proud of you," she throws in. Which, really? With the call, and the comments, one would think she still cares about me."

I swallow dry, not really sure how to move forward from here. "Speaking of Spring Awakening, I have to go to rehearsal." I don't but I keep up with the lie anyway. "We have to make up for changing choreography."

"Oh yeah. Of course. I'm sorry for taking up your time."

"No problem at all. I'm... glad you called."

"Good bye, Rach."

"Please, drive safe," I tell her and then, "bye."

So the next week I'm hanging out at Santana's with her, Britt, and Kurt and we're all playing Uno. It's a nice change of pace for once. I have a break with Spring Awakening for about three days and then we're back on harder than ever. But for right now, it's just time for cold beers and friends.

I take a swig of mine and place down a yellow 2, turn to Kurt and wait for his move. He gives me a stink look and throws all of his cards down on the carpet. "I hate you."

"Game's not over!" I shriek. He always gives up before it's over. Such a sore loser.

He doesn't even acknowledge me as he sits next to Britt on the laptop. The moment he sits, there's a ring coming from it. Skype. I look at the source of the noise and turn cold. Quinn's calling Britt.

Britt turns to me, "is it okay if I pick up or?"

Santana doesn't even let me reply, "go ahead, baby." She then shrugs at me and starts collecting the Uno cards.

She's right though. It doesn't matter how crappy of a relationship Quinn and I have right now, they're still best friends and she has every right to talk to her when she calls.

The call connects and seeing her smiling face makes my heart constrict. She looks as gorgeous as ever, her hair shorter than last time I saw her. "Hey, Britt!" She waves, adorably, and then sends a kiss over.

"Hey, Q! How've you been?"

"Good, good. You?" She realizes now there are other people around so she tries to see behind Britt's head but it's impossible if she's behind a screen so she laughs and says, "who else is there, Britt? Is that S?"

Britt ducks, suddenly, and I am standing right behind her. When our eyes meet, Quinn immediately blushes then looks away. "Oh, hey, Rachel."

"Hello, Quinn. You look -" I remember we're not alone so I clear my throat, give a look around and silently finish my thought. "Beautiful, I guess."

Her eyes widen. She looks down, her bangs cover her eyes for a minute and she looks bashful. When she looks up and the light in her room hits her like that, it's breathtaking. "Thank you."

Kurt speaks up next, "Hey, Quinn." I look at him and realize it must've been awkward for the others to witness the exchange.

"Hola, Bitch." Santana says from behind me. She's stretched out on her bed, reading a magazine.

"Hello Kurt and the other one," Quinn says from the other side. "What are you guys doing?"

"We were playing Uno but Kurt threw a fit and gave up." I tell her and move out of the way for the others to be included in the conversation as well. "Quitter," I say and give him a look. I also chance a glance at Quinn from my spot near the window and she's already looking at me. It makes me nervous.

He jumps off his seat and picks up a finger, "no. I am not a quitter."

"Well," Santana says and flips a page. "You totally quit."

On the other side of the screen, Quinn laughs and the sound makes me turn back toward her. I haven't seen her look this happy in a very long time and just the image of her smiling like that makes me smile too. I blush when her eyes seek me in the room, and I just pretend that it was some sort of computer glitch, even though it's a long stretch. "Well, Kurt," Quinn says and focuses back on him. "You should play me. I'm really bad at Uno so you'd win."

"That's true," I say without thinking about it first. I realize what I did and shut up, turn around and move to sit next to Santana on the bed. I try to read over her shoulder but she pulls the magazine away and flicks me on the arm.

Kurt seems excited about the idea, "yes! We'll play when you come back for next semester."

"Sounds like a plan, Kurt." Quinn turns toward Britt, "what about you? What are you doing?"

"I am going to Lima with Santana tomorrow. We're driving like when you and Rache-" She stops halfway. I slowly pick up my phone to ignore the memories that come with it. "Sorry," she mutters and looks behind her to check with me if I'm okay.

I let out air through my mouth, air I didn't even know I was holding in. "I - it's fine."

"Quinn, maybe we'll come visit you." Santana says, barely looking up from her magazine. She's trying to change subjects and I'm extremely thankful for her.

"Sounds good."

I am starting to feel more awkward with each passing moment. With Quinn, it feels like for every step we take forward, we take a thousand back. I get up and make a lame excuse about buying eggs for Mike. Without another look at Quinn on the computer, I leave and race home.


	4. Thinkin Bout You (Frank Ocean)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> death of an original character, so don't worry, FaBerry, Britt, Santana - they're all alive. It's not even detailed, I didn't write a scene for it in this chapter. It's just talked about. It's nothing too traumatizing, I don't think.
> 
> Posting here from FF.net

Being at home has been good for me. It's given me other things to worry about besides Rachel or cheerleading. Mom thinks it's a good idea that I find another summer job, one that is better for my career than waitressing. Or at least something that will jump out on my resume. So I do the whole job hunting thing and in all of the interviews I go to, I let them know about attending Hopkins at the end of last summer and interning for a year at a major corporation in NY.

I get a job at a local non-governmental agency. It doesn't pay a lot, but it does offer to teach me a lot about working in applied anthropology and it gives me experience.

The job is a 9-5 thing so I only have time to think about other things after five in the afternoon on the drive home, when traffic is heavy and I tend to space out.

This Tuesday I have been thinking a lot about Britt. I miss her when I'm not in New York. She's my best friend and although we talk, we don't text that much because most of the times I get lost. I love her to death but still sometimes I can't understand what she's trying to convey via message. I make a mental note to Skype her as soon as I get home.

Mom is in the kitchen, as always, when I come in through the garage. She looks up from the eggplant she's chopping into cubes and smiles, "Hey, honey. How was the second day on the job?"

"It was just as you'd expect a second day to be," I reply before kissing her hello on the cheek. "'S Dad home yet?"

"No, he's stopping by the grocery store for me."

I tell her as I spy around the counter to see if I want to snack on something, "You could've asked me. I would've gone for you." I grab a cucumber from a bowl and stick it in my mouth.

The corners of her lips pull up in a small, proud smile, "I know, but it's on his way home. It's not a big deal."

"Okay, if you say so. I'm gonna go upstairs and change. Maybe I'll Skype Britt tonight."

"Hey, if you do, tell her I said hello. And that girlfriend of hers too. Rachel's best friend - what's her name?" She stops chopping for a second, puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head upward to think. "Santiago... Samantha? No, definitely not that."

"Santana, Mom." I remind her. "Santana." And she had to bring up Rachel's name. She's so not as sleek as she thinks she is. Dropping her name her and there as if I could forget.

My mom slaps my hand away when I go for another cucumber, muttering something about manners, but then she grabs one anyway and hands it to me. "That's her. How's Rachel these days?"

Smooth segue way. "I think she's fine, Mother." I roll my eyes and grab my bag again to go to my room. "You know that we barely talk so."

She 'hms' and then shrugs. "Okay."

Suspicious. "Okay what?" I narrow my eyes at the back of her head.

"Nothing," she says quickly and finishes chopping the last eggplant. She scoops all of the cubes and throws them onto a sheet tray. "Just - what happened to you guys again?"

"I swear that we already had this conversation since I've been home. And like, three times since Rachel and I broke up."

"Since you broke up with her," She corrects me.

"Yeah, whatever, same thing." I cross my arms. "Are we done?"

"No." She says. "I think that whatever it is that Rachel did that upset you so much could be forgiven and you guys could deal with it and get back together. I just want you to be happy." She wipes her hand on the apron around her waist and then pats me on the cheek with it. "She made you so happy."

I step away from her touch and pity look and tell her with a raised eyebrow, "I am still happy, Mom. I don't need someone to make me happy."

"No, you're definitely right." She tells me, all serious. "But even you with your feminist side must admit that she made you happiest."

"Okay. I'm going up. Call me when dinner's ready." I don't let her say anything else that might bring up any more thoughts of Rachel before I'm ditching the kitchen. I make my way upstairs quickly, making an effort to try to forget the last thing she said. "...she made you happiest."

My blouse is off first, to give me room to breathe. I need to breathe. Why is it that when I think about Rachel I start feeling panicky? Did I miss my chance at all? Did I make a mistake? Am I still making a mistake in not being with her?

And then there's Sarah. I genuinely like her. She makes me feel an electricity I haven't felt in a long time with Rachel. Maybe she and I got too comfortable in our relationship, but is comfortable ever bad? Sarah is different, she's fresh. And right now she is drama-free. And many miles away.

As is Rachel.

This is confusing. I stand in the middle of my room in my black bra and jeans, chest working up and down. My hands are on my hips, staring at the ceiling, and mouth hanging open to keep the tears at bay. This shouldn't still be this fucking hard. I decide that I really just need to talk to Britt to see if she has anything reassuring to tell me.

On the way to my bed where the laptop is, I pick up a white cotton shirt and put it on. It's comfortable. I work myself down to a more calm state and think of good, happy things, like puppies and ice cream. I run a hand over my new hair cut. I had it cut on Saturday to welcome summer.

It doesn't take long after I call for her to pick up. Maybe a minute, but then the connection is made and I see her smile at me. "Hey, Britt!" I wave and then kiss the palm of my hand and blow it at her.

"Hey, Q! How've you been?"

I try to come off as relaxed as I can, "Good, good. You?" I finally notice that she's not alone when I see movement behind her but I can't really see even as I try to take a peek behind her. I laugh, "who else is there, Britt? Is that S?"

Britt ducks, suddenly, and I am surprised to see Rachel standing behind Britt, and looking straight into my eyes. The intensity is too much, and I feel my cheeks warm up. "Hello, Quinn. You look -" she stops and I assume it's because she's getting awkward around our friends. It comes out softly, "Beautiful, I guess."

The way the word hits my ears brings about a familiar feeling and one that makes me dizzy. I look down and let my bangs hide my face, at least partially. "Thank you."

Kurt speaks up next, and he looks mildly embarrassed for Rachel. "Hey, Quinn."

"Hola, Bitch." Santana says from somewhere in the back. I can only make out that she's reading something but not what.

I roll my eyes, "Hello Kurt and the other one. What are you guys doing?"

"We were playing Uno but Kurt threw a fit and gave up." Rachel says and moves toward the window. "Quitter," she adds and shoots him an annoyed look. I'm watching her when she glances at me and it's awkward.

He jumps off his seat and picks up a finger, "no. I am not a quitter."

"Well," Santana says and flips a page. "You totally quit."

It must be the way Santana doesn't even look up or Kurt's face when she reminds him that, but I start laughing. I feel Rachel's eyes on me because there is never a moment when she's looking at me that I can't tell. I find her eyes and see her visibly get shy. "Well, Kurt," I say and turn to him again, "You should play me. I'm really bad at Uno so you'd win."

Rachel immediately pipes in, "That's true." She shakes her head at herself and sits next to Santana.

Kurt seems excited about the idea, "yes! We'll play when you come back for next semester."

"Sounds like a plan, Kurt." I tell him, but I'm really interested in talking to Britt who's been kind of quietly observing the conversation taking place. "What about you? What are you doing?"

"I am going to Lima with Santana tomorrow. We're driving like when you and Rache-" Sometimes Britt has no filter and I don't hate her for it. But the memory of the trip pains my heart because Rachel and I were fighting then, but we made up and we still managed to make it a good one. I bite my lower lip and Britt apologizes to Rachel on the other side of the screen.

Rachel exhales, "I - it's fine."

"Quinn, maybe we'll come visit you sometime this month." Santana says, barely looking up from her magazine. She's trying to change subjects and I appreciate it because the air in the room is starting to feel heavy. And I'm not even there.

"Sounds good," I say.

Suddenly, Rachel gets up and leaves saying something about buying eggs for Mike so he can bake a cake. I barely am able to say good bye before she's gone and we are left staring at one another in her absence.

Kurt says, "don't mind her, Quinn. She's -"

"Hey." Santana warns him, "let's just let Rachel be, okay?" The look she gives him is enough to shut him up from whatever comment he was going to make. I actually love Santana for that because I don't want to hear Rachel's friends talking about her. We all know Kurt loves her but he loves gossip and he wouldn't be above talking about her to make me feel better just because it's me who stayed and she left. I'm sure he would make a comment about me if I had ditched.

I mumble, "anyway," and wait until their attentions are back on me. "Britt, tell me about that dance recital you had yesterday."

And she doesn't stop talking for a good thirty minutes, and that is the way I like it.

The Skype call gets interrupted by a phone call. I check my phone and it makes me smile because Sarah's calling. She had mentioned earlier while we were texting that she would call at night but I forgot about it and was actually surprised by it.

"Hey, there," I greet her while still on Skype with Britt and Santana. Kurt left about ten minutes ago when he realized Britt wouldn't stop talking about her cat's marriage proposal.

I can practically hear Sarah smirk on the other side, "hey, gorgeous. Are you busy right now?"

"I'm on Skype with friends from there but they don't mind." I ask them with my eyes if I can call back later and Santana rolls her eyes really hard before slamming on some key. The call disconnects. "Anyway," I drag. "Tell me about your week."

"Everything okay with your friends?" She picks up on the tone of my voice.

"No, yeah," I say. "They'll get over it. I will call them back tonight still or tomorrow if it's too late when we hang up."

She chuckles, her voice is already raspy by nature and when she chuckles like that it makes me feel all warm. "If you say so."

"Your week?" I ask again.

She says, "right. Well, I had that film to finish that I told you about. It went okay, I think. Besides that, nothing much happened. I mean, I went fishing over the weekend and let's just say I should never do that again."

I laugh out loud, trying to picture a girl like Sarah with her cutoff tank and a backwards hat fishing. "Oh, that mental image is hilarious."

"I don't know how people do it, Q. Who willingly just sits there for hours, quietly, waiting... did I mention quietly?!"

"I wouldn't have the patience for it, I feel ya. But, like, don't Texans fish a lot? For some reason I just thought all of you were raised fishing..." I joke and wait for her predictable reaction.

She drags, "Here we go again with the stereotyping! The first time I ever saw a longhorn, I was 18, Quinn! Three years ago before I came to school in New York!" She laughs, exaggerating on the Texan accent.

"Good grief," I say. "Never speak with a Texan accent again. It's just - odd."

"I told you," she says back in her normal voice. "I think that I was born in the wrong state. I seriously despise country music. I am a disgrace to my people."

Country music is not really my favorite either. I tell her, "I think people either really love or really hate country. There's no in-between."

Talking to Sarah is easy because she makes everything interesting. Her loud personality is enough to keep us on the phone for the next two hours, talking about dumb things like whether or not Patrick and Spongebob are gay for each other or just really good friends. I insist they are but she has a theory that Spongebob is gay for Squidward, which... just no.

I move from my laptop to a chair and eventually change into pajamas and get into bed. Her company is nice, even if it's over the phone. Talking to her is so different than talking to Rachel that it makes me miss my ex less. I silently cuss myself for comparing the two and then focus on just paying attention to Sarah because she deserves my undivided attention.

I end up laughing so hard right before we say goodbye that I have to race to the bathroom and leave the phone on my bed. I don't want to take her to the bathroom with me to hear me potty, so I warn her that I'm leaving but will be back soon. When I come back she is laughing still, "I swear I thought you were gonna pee yourself before you made it to the bathroom."

"I am a very fast runner, Sarah," I inform her as serious as I can manage, even though we're both still cracking up.

"Honey!" My mother calls for me. "You have guests!"

I get up from the floor reluctantly. I put down the pictures I had been looking at of Rachel and I at our camping trip and stretch as I walk down my hallway. There are voices coming from the foyer, getting more recognizable by the minute. "Is it possible?" I mutter to myself right as the wall disappears and I am granted a view of Santana and Brittany standing there, smiling.

"OH MY GOD! HI!" I scream and open my arms. I run toward them and pull them both into my arms. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We wanted to surprise you!" Britt says, excited.

"Which we clearly did," Santana comments with a proud smirk on her face.

"Yes, you did. Were you in on this?" I turn toward my mom who is smiling too.

She nods and simply says, "I know everything," before going down the hallway to her room.

"You guys - I'm so excited you're here. Let's go do something." Britt is going to be staying at home. Even though her parents are really cool about her being bisexual, they still want to set up boundaries so they asked if Santana could stay with me. We do have a spare room. I help them with Santana's bags upstairs and show her the rest of the second floor. They tell me about their trip and how Santana pretty much slept through the whole of it. Santana denies it but Britt gives her one adorable look that has her agreeing immediately and admitting that she was "tired."

Santana wants to take a shower so Britt and I hang out in my room while we wait. "So, how are things?" She asks as she settles on my bed with me. She automatically curls into me.

I tell her, "things are okay. It's good being home."

"Good," she says. "That's really great. Heard from Rach lately?" She asks with a mischievous look in her eyes, flipping through the pictures I had been looking at earlier.

"Uh," I think about the last time we talked. If I'm not mistaken it was that awkward Skype call that happened after I called her to apologize. "No. I mean, she - well, I. No." I stand, take the pictures from her and throw them inside a random drawer.

"She's coming down to Lima tomorrow!" She informs me.

"That's great, Britt," I try to sound casual and like that information doesn't do anything for me. It does, though, because when Rachel and I talked on the phone I said I'd visit. I wonder if she remembers that, or if she cares. I wonder if she will make me go through with it. I want to, but at the same time, it scares me. "But tell me about what's going with you."

Britt looks at me with those bright blue eyes and shakes her head before saying, "I got an audition callback for a musical to be part of the troupe."

Now that's good news! "Hey!" I pull her in and hug her tight, "congratulations. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," she says. "It's a good production. Kurt thinks that they'd be crazy to go with someone else."

I'm about to agree when a phone starts ringing. I check and it's not mine and when I look at Britt to confirm, it's not hers either. She stands and looks for Santana's phone until she finds it under piles of her clothes. "It's Rachel."

"Pick up," I say and try not to listen.

"Hello?" Britt's face goes from bright to sullen in a minute. "Calm down, Rachel. Slow down - what happened?"

At Britt's questions and tone of voice I sit up as fast as I can. I wanna listen but can't hear so I just count to ten and hope it's not as bad as it sounds.

Britt tries to calm Rachel down, "hey, babe. Okay. I know you're scared. I know - she's about to come out of the shower but right now you're all I have so. Yes, I know." She gives me a sideways look and then turns around. I think it's so I don't freak out anymore than I am but it doesn't help. I get up and come close to her.

"What happened?" I whisper. I wanna know so badly. "Britt." I hiss.

She lifts up a finger and continues, "okay. That's good. Yes. Breathe in, breathe out."

"Britt! Tell me if she's alright at least."

"She's okay," Britt mouths and then takes a few steps away from me. "Okay, Rach, honey. Listen to me. You're okay. You're alive." She goes quiet for a second. "Yes, I know. But just try to focus on the positive."

Santana walks in at this moment, already looking suspicious as if she heard some of what Britt was saying. She rolls up her towel further and questions it, "is everything okay?"

Britt tells Rachel, "I'm going to hand Santana the phone, alright? Okay. Love you. Remember to breathe."

Carefully she moves the phone off her ear and mutes it with her shoulder. She looks at the both of us with an expression that I have never seen on her face before. "I, well. Rachel needs you," she tells Santana but then looks at me. "Um. Her, uh, friend... Hey or Hayley... or something like that. She uh, was in an accident. She is -" she stops her sentence and hands the phone over. "I think Rachel was with her when it happened."

In a hurry, Santana grabs the phone and says, "Rach? Are you okay?" Her tone is concerned.

For a split second I wish that Rachel had called me but I know that's not something that I can claim. I want to do something for her. I know that Hey is some girl that she was sleeping with and although it gives me a pang (I know, how fucking disgusting of me right now) of jealousy, I know that witnessing something like that can be traumatizing.

"What happened?" Santana asks. Then follows with, "where's Kurt? Blaine? What about Jesse? Or Mike and Tee, Mercedes or Sam? Go be with someone, please. Until you come to Lima tomorrow." She's quiet then, "oh, right. Well, we'll see you here after the funeral?"

I'm trying really hard to keep myself from pulling the phone away from Santana. I just hate knowing that Rachel is not okay. "Okay, sweetie." Santana says. "Yes, of course. Do you want me to -" Santana is cut off then, "Yes. I can put us on speakerphone and you just talk to the three of us until you get home. You promise Mike is at home with Tina right?"

Rachel asks something. To which Santana responds, "oh yeah. Um, Britt, me and Quinn... Yes. We're actually at her - oh. Okay." Santana looks at me and offers me the phone, "she wants to talk to you."

I hesitate for only one second before grabbing the phone.

"I'm sorry," she says on the other side. "I'm so -so sorry I, I, I asked to talk to you. I know," sniffle - "I can't ask this of you because we're not together but just - hearing your voice relaxes me."

I look at Santana and Britt. They look hopeful, as if her talking to me on the phone will fix all of the mess that I've caused; fix our hearts; our relationship. And fix the fact that her friend is dead. I walk out of the room and sit out on the hallway, my back against the wall, right under a family portrait.

"Hey," I use my soothing voice. "It's okay. I'm glad I could be of any assistance.

"I'm su-sure you had better things to do," she sobs on the other side.

"I have nowhere else to be other than right here, right now, with you," I assure her and mean it.


	5. Throw Me A Rope (Kt Tunstall)

It all happens very fast. One minute we're driving to a friend's party in Jersey, and the next, Hey is limp next to me.

The moment the other car hits us is very fast and slow at the same time. I can feel it coming, although I can't see it, and time slows down to the point that I can feel every movement of my body thrashing inside the car. In a split second, I realize the car's been hit and is now crossing the road into incoming traffic. I do my best to grab the steering wheel from the passenger seat and bring it back to our lane, but it's too hard and out of control.

I make a decision. I exhale. I tell myself that if I survive this I will be better. And then I let the wheel go in faith, close my eyes and pray. No, I don't really believe in my parents' God all that much, but Quinn believes and if she believes then that's something I'm willing to consider.

I hope that He listens when I ask for forgiveness and mercy.

The car drifts off to the gravel shoulder and stops without hitting anything else or being hit by a car, which is good. But I'm still dizzy, somewhat nauseous, and I can feel the blood gushing out of my leg. I turn to Hey, "Hey! Hey!" She doesn't say anything, her head bobs from one side to the next.

Unwilling to believe she's really all that hurt, I say, "that's not funny. Hey, dude, wake up." I slap her on the cheek as I've seen people do in the movies and try again, "Hey!"

Desperation starts to crawl up my chest, starting low in my gut all the way through my throat. I scream in desperation, "HELP!"

The belt feels constricting over my chest, and I just want to breathe. I manage to take the belt off and breathe deeply to try to gain some sense of control back. "Oh my god, please, Hey." I turn my attention to my friend again, and watch as her face shows no sign of anything. I try not to reach to conclusions by myself since I'm not a professional, but the lack of a rising and falling chest gives me enough indication of how much the impact affected her.

The car did hit her side with extreme force.

Suddenly, there are people banging on my window. I look up and see a couple of good souls who stopped to check on us. This man is tall and dark, and he looks terrified. He yells at me, "are you okay?!"

I nod, but not too vigorously, because my head hurts. "Sure-" I try to say but my voice barely comes out now that I know that I will be okay. Or so I hope. My body relaxes and I let my weight sink me into the seat.

He freaks, "hey! NO! Don't fall asleep."

I smile softly and try to open the car door. It's locked. I feel for the lock, there it is. Slowly I unlock the door and let him open it. There are four pairs of hands on me when I climb off the car, "are you alright?" I hear people asking.

"Hey." I say.

The man replies, "Hi. Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"

I mumble something like, "not 'hey.' My friend, Hey." With much effort I try to turn my neck back toward the car but it hurts so I wince.

He seems to realize what I'm trying to tell him so he turns to the other people around and yells, "there's another one in the car!"

The next minute, the ambulance arrives with two firefighter trucks. One of the firefighters comes up to me and the rest run toward the car. I try my best to reply to every question to the man is asking me, and he seems to be satisfied with my state of consciousness and although I am sore all over, he explains that I only have on cut on my leg and they can fix that with a quick bandage.

One of the paramedics that arrived a few seconds later starts tending to me. They eventually lead me to the ambulance, testing out if I'm alright to walk. I walk there fine, now that the first shock passed.

When I'm drinking some water, I look up and see Hey's body on a stretcher, it hits me. It knocks the wind out of me and I spit the water out. "Hey!" I try to get up but the paramedic stops me with two hands on my arms.

"If I were you, I wouldn't."

I look him straight in the eyes and say, "you're not me. Let me go!" I release my arms from his grip and run to her. "Hey!"

The firemen stop where they are and look away from me. One who seems to be the leader breaks away from the group and takes me aside. "I'm sorry..." he starts. And even though I don't hear the words he says right after that I know that they are: she didn't make it.

The ambulance moves when someone climbs on board. "Okay, Ms. Berry. We're taking you to the hospital."

I don't know what to do. He tries to console me but all I know is that I feel incredibly alone and scared. I call both my fathers and neither pick up. I leave Dad a voicemail, but it's just crying, so I hang up. I end up calling Santana's cell, with every breath a sob. My insides feel like they're tangling, and my heart feels like it's going to explode with anguish.

The car takes off and the road is bumpy back toward the nearest hospital.

"Hello?" I hear. It's Brittany, I recognize the voice. I start talking, too fast, too slow, too all over the place to make sense. It hurts and I just want it to stop hurting. I feel someone picking me up from the floor and walking me back to the ambulance where they tell me to lay down and try to relax. Britt picks up on the fact that something happened but she can't quite understand me so she says, "Calm down, Rachel. Slow down - what happened?"

"I - I, it all happened so fast. Accident - car. I'm not, not, ent- entir- entirely entirely sure. I didn't know - I didn't think. I am so scared, Britt. I just wish - and Hey! Oh, my God! Wha- wha- what do I do? I just - my heart hurts, and and and my, um, my head. She's dead." I breathe in and out, trying to ground my thoughts but it doesn't help. Santana might know what to tell me. "Where's, where's San?"

"Hey, babe." Britt is always a considerate person and her kindness washes over me through the phone. "Okay. I know you're scared. I know - she's about to come out of the shower but right now you're all I have so."

"I'm scared," I repeat.

"Yes, I know," she says.

"I think they gave me something, Britt-" I feel my breathing slow down.

"Okay. That's good. Yes. Breathe in, breathe out." She talks to someone else and then is back to me, "Okay, Rach, honey. Listen to me. You're okay. You're alive."

That comment is all that it takes for my agony to surface again. "But Hey is dead! My friend, Brr-" I can't finish my sentence with the tears overwhelming me.

"Yes, I know. But just try to focus on the positive."

The positive being that my friend died next to me?

I close my eyes and try to push away this feeling from within me - this feeling that I just witnessed someone's life being taken. The next thing Britt says is, "I'm going to hand Santana the phone, alright?"

"Okay," I mumble.

"Okay. Love you. Remember to breathe."

There's chatter on the other side of the phone as I remember to breathe.

In a hurry, Santana grabs the phone and says, "Rach? Are you okay?" Her tone is concerned.

I nod, then realize she can't hear me nodding, and respond, "yes, I'm... alive."

"What happened?" Santana asks.

"I was with Hey and we got in a car accident..." I don't want to say the next words but I have to. "She's... gone."

Santana asks me, "where's Kurt? Blaine? What about Jesse? Or Mike and Tee, Mercedes or Sam? Go be with someone, please. Until you come to Lima tomorrow."

I feel the fight leave my body as tears slowly begin to pour again, "I'm going to stay for a funeral, San."

"Oh, right. Well, we'll see you here after the funeral?"

"Yes, of course I'll be there."

"Okay, sweetie." Santana says.

"Would you mind," I ask, slowly, still trying not to break down again, "staying on the phone with me for a while?"

"Yes, of course. Do you want me to -"

"Would you put me on speakerphone? I just want to be around as many friends as possible."

Santana reassures her, "Yes. I can put us on speakerphone and you just talk to the three of us until you get home. You promise Mike is at home with Tina right?"

With the mention of three, I have to imagine that Quinn is with them, but I need to make sure. Just knowing that there's a possibility she's around gives me hope because she can always make me feel safe, no matter what. "Three of you?" I ask.

To which Santana responds, "oh yeah. Um, Britt, me and Quinn... Yes. We're actually at her -"

"Could I talk to her, actually?" It just comes out. I wish I had the power to stop something like this, this need of her when I'm sad but I honestly don't even care right now. I just want to feel better already.

"Oh. Okay." I hear her tell Quinn, "she wants to talk to you."

As soon as I hear Quinn on the line I'm embarrassed and regret asking for her. I feel childish. I should have just called my dads. "I'm sorry," I say on the other side. "I'm so -so sorry I, I, I asked to talk to you. I know," sniffle - "I can't ask this of you because we're not together but just - hearing your voice relaxes me."

"Hey," she says quietly. "It's okay. I'm glad I could be of any assistance."

I try to reason it, "I'm su-sure you had better things to do." I am positive that I am back to sobbing, because just at Quinn's soft 'Hey' I'm reminded me of the girl who was breathing not even an hour ago.

"I have nowhere else to be other than right here, right now, with you," She tells me. I believe her, because she's Quinn and also because I need something to hold on to right now. "How are you holding up?" She asks. "I - I mean, are you hurt?"

I sigh, trying not to compare my luck with Hey's. "I only have a cut on my left leg but it doesn't even hurt right now."

"Rach," Quinn says, as if tasting my name in her tongue. "I'm so glad -" She stops herself. I don't know what she was going to say, but I have an idea. Instead, she says, "I'm just very happy you're alright."

"I don't know how to feel," I admit.

"Have you told your dads about this yet?" I ask, "I'm sure they'd be more than okay in coming there to be with you."

Probably, she's right. They are very supportive parents and they would hate to know that I'm going through such a moment without them. "No, I haven't. They didn't answer when I called," I tell her. "But I - don't want to worry them."

"They have the right to know," she tells me. "And, if you want -" she hesitates before saying it, "If you want, I could come back to be with you." The wording - it touches my heart in a way that I know it shouldn't, because she means it like a friend. I should know that.

As much as I would love to have her here, I say, "that's okay, Quinn. You don't have to worry about me."

The way she sighs on the other side lets me know that she does worry. I start crying again because I don't know what else to do in this moment. I think back to the first time I met Hey and how well we got along. And then I feel like scum for not treating her any better the entire duration of our... fling? "But I do, Rach." Quinn says and I can almost see her putting her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "I really do. Please, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Um," I sob. I can't really think. My mind is fuzzy at the moment. I lay back and breathe, "I think - just this is nice."

The movement stops and I come to the conclusion we must be at the hospital. "Hey, I'm at the hospital." I tell Quinn.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says.

I don't think they're extremely worried about my conditions or they would have had me strapped to the stretcher. When they open the doors for me, two men in green help me off and tell me they're going to be good to me.

They check my vitals and confirm the paramedic's prognosis on the field - it's only a cut to the left leg but I will be fine. They give me some painkillers and relaxants so I can stop crying. Time doesn't feel like it's passing, but I know it does because Santana's name is still on my screen and the minutes keep increasing. We're not talking. She's literally just on the other side of the call, listening to see if I'll speak to her first, needing anything.

The doctor that's taking care of me tells me they were finally able to reach my parents and explain what happened. She also tells me that they're already on their way to the airport to catch the first flight out. I do feel relief when I hear they're coming and start crying again.

Kurt comes in through the doors looking frantic. I assume someone else must have told him - Britt or Santana because I sure didn't. Blaine and Sam follow soon behind. When I see them, I drop my head and start bawling again.

Nobody says anything as Kurt holds me on the chair. He simply lets me rest my head on his shoulder and cry. Sam and Blaine stand further back, watching with sullen faces. They're worried but I can tell they're relieved I'm okay.

When Kurt and I pull away from each other he tells me, "Britt called. God, Rachel. I'm so happy-" He doesn't finish the sentence. He pulls me in again and whispers in my ear, "you scared the shit out of us." He gives me a feeble smile and says, "I'm- so so sorry, babe."

"I -" I try to tell him - tell them - thank you for coming to be with me, but I can't get the words out. I'm just too exhausted.

"Here," he says, "Let's get you home, okay? Mike is already getting everything ready for you. He wanted to come but I told him it'd be best if he and Tee made you some soup instead. How does that sound?"

I nod, crying into his sweater. I hope I'm not messing it up. "I'm sorry-" I manage to mumble and pat his shoulder.

He chuckles, not really worried, "it's okay, honey. Don't you worry about my sweater."

"I -" remember Quinn. I bring the phone to my ear, "Quinn." I say as if it's the first time I'm talking to her tonight.

She comes back to me almost instantly, "Hi," she says softly. "Did I hear Kurt's voice?"

He has his hand in my elbow, guiding me, and Blaine is holding me on the other side. I'm not stumbling when I walk, but I feel weak from crying. Sam is walking fast ahead of us to get into the car.

"Yes, the boys are here," I inform her. There are tears at bay already because now that I'm thinking about this, home is a bit far from this specific hospital, and I don't want to be inside a car when I just got into an accident. I totally trust Sam but - it's still frightening. I stop walking, making Blaine and Kurt stop with me. "There's - well, I."

"Breathe, Rach." Quinn reminds me.

"I'm don-"

My phone starts vibrating in my hand and I pull it away to check. "Quinn, it's my Dad," I tell her. "I have to go." I'm regretful that this is how we had to talk in the first place, but I'm very thankful that Santana and Britt were with her when I called.

"Okay," She says. "I will be thinking of you and - I'm sorry I couldn't do much else from here."

She doesn't know how much she does for me when she simply stops to listen to what I'm saying. She's great. "You did everything."

My dads show up that same night, a couple of hours after I make it home.

Everybody else is there too, hanging out, because they don't want me to be alone.

Santana keeps texting me, asking if I want her to come back for me but I assure her she doesn't have to since I have so many people with me.

Mike goes to Tina's for the night. I think he wants to give my parents and I some space, and I appreciate him for it since this was his apartment first.

"Are you going to be okay tonight, baby girl?" Daddy asks from the door to my room. He pushes up the glasses on his nose and arches an eyebrow. "If you want, I could sleep on your floor -"

"It's alright, daddy," I reassure him. "I'll... be fine.

Convinced, he isn't, but he respects my decision anyway and goes back to the living room where we tried to make it as comfortable as possible for them. I wanted to rent a hotel room for them, and then I insisted in giving up my bed, but they declined both. They want to be as close as possible to me, and they want me to sleep in a familiar place tonight.

I probably won't sleep.

Sleep eventually came, but it was early in the morning - almost six when I actually succumbed to it. I'm exhausted, and I can feel that even as I'm asleep. It's a weird sensation, knowing how tired you are when you're out cold.

I hear my parents in the kitchen, softly talking about the accident. I can hear certain words that give them away but I try not to think about it. I'm supposed to be sleeping. I will my brain to shut off again but it doesn't.

I open my eyes and check my clock: eight. That's better than I thought. My eyes close again and I feel tears start to run down my cheek.

I wonder what Hey would be doing if she were alive right now. I try to fathom she's no longer here, but it doesn't make me feel any better - it only confuses the shit out of me.

The next thing I do is check my phone: 4 calls from Santana, 1 from Britt, 1 from Quinn, and 15 messages from various friends. I turn it off and roll toward the wall.

When my door opens, it creaks. It's the only reason why I open my eyes again.

My head feels heavy, my heart feels heavier.

I don't turn, but the feeling I get is overwhelming.

I know who's here, because I can feel her presence when she's around. "Quinn," I say and turn, just in time to feel her loop her arms around my waist and pull me in for a hug.


	6. Satellite Call (Sara Bareilles)

The conversation I have with Rachel doesn't leave my head all evening and overnight. I don't sleep. My eyes barely close. I consider texting her to check up on her but I'm afraid of waking her up if she is asleep.

It's pointless. I won't sleep. I get up and sit at the edge of my bed. I have money saved over from my paid internship. Who cares? I'd use other money if I had to.

I should wins over I shouldn't, and the next minute I'm sitting in front of my laptop sitting atop my desk. With a quick search I find the earliest flight the next morning and buy it on the spot. I'm sure my parents will understand my sense of urgency, especially mom.

It's late, so I wait to tell them the next morning, but I get ready. I pack a quick weekender and hope that it's enough for the time that I'm planning to stay. I still have some stuff at the cheerleading house that I left before going home but they are things I barely wear, that's exactly why they got left behind. Either way, I have extra clothes and a place to sleep.

My mom actually wants to come with when I tell her I'm going back to New York to be with Rachel. When I told her what happened, her first question was, "what can I do for her?" I promise her that Rachel won't be upset that she can't come with me, but I do make sure to also promise that I will let Rachel know that my parents and home are at her disposal.

We leave the house at five in the morning to make it to the airport early for my flight that leaves at 7:30. Mom doesn't complain about me waking her up at 4:30 to let her know of my plans and to drive me. She tells me she's very proud of me on the way there and holds my hand the entire time. It makes me feel safe because I'm honestly really scared about it all. I'm scared for Rachel. I'm scared with Rachel.

The flight is painless. I do zone off while waiting for takeoff and only really wake up when the air-flight attendant wakes me. He nudges me on the shoulder softly and says, "someone's waiting for you." I'm not sure how he knows. Before I ask, he tells me with a sympathetic shrug, "you look like someone who would keep people waiting."

It feels harsh in my ears at first, but then I realize that he might not be wrong. I don't know how I feel about that after.

I tell my cab driver Rachel's apartment address by heart and even offer him instructions in how to get there the fastest. He doesn't complain because even I hear it in my voice the fear start to rise. He simply nods at me through his mirror and signals that he's about to get on the driving lane.

The drive to her place could have gone faster in my opinion but I know it's not his fault that traffic's already heavy at this time of the morning (and always) in New York City, so I just let it go and focus on breathing.

I haven't even told Santana or Britt about this trip.

Or Sarah.

Santana's gonna get so mad. But she'll understand.

I climb up the stairs of the building two by two, with my bag looped across my chest. I go as fast as I can, the realization dawning on me that I'm this close to Rachel. I need to let go of my fear and be here for her. I know she doesn't need me specifically. She has her fathers and all of our other friends, but I want her to know that I'm available despite of where we stand in our relationship.

The only reason I knock as soon as I reach the door is because I hear Leroy's unmistakable voice coming through. They're awake, and it seems like they're cooking from the smell that's wafting out. The door opens wide and Leroy literally tears up on the spot when he sees me. "Oh, thank God. It's so great to see you, Quinn." He pulls me in, hugs me, and then passes me over to Hiram as if I'm a doll.

"How is she?" I ask them as I put my bag down next to the dining table.

"Sad," Hiram says after they exchange a look.

I nod once, "understandable." I look around the place, feeling odd in being there without the boys. Bandit and Benji are nowhere to be seen and I assume Mike took them with him to Tina's to spend the night. Probably because of Rachel's daddy, Hiram, who's allergic. "You guys?" I ask, wanting to make sure that they slept too.

"I mean," Leroy starts and flips a pancake. "I'm just thankful." He doesn't say anything else but with the way Hiram hangs his head I can only assume they must have imagined scenarios that they would be in New York for a different reason.

I hug them both again - with my arms open wide to fit them, "Me too." I look down the hallway. Rachel's door's closed. "I'm going to check in on her -"

"Please," Hiram says and gestures for me to go. "And Quinn - thank you so much for being here."

"I lo-" I start but catch myself. It's just a hard habit to break. I mean, it's not that I don't love her but I don't want to make this awkward. I clear my throat and say instead, "I care about her. A lot." I can't look them in the eyes. I blink and turn away and then say, "well, I'm going."

They watch me walk down the hallway. I check with them again and they both nod right before I open Rachel's cranky door. I always used to laugh at that when Rachel and I came back here for the night. I used to say that it was cranky because it creaks very loudly every time it opens.

I don't have to say anything. I see her entire body slightly perk up. The moment I sit on her bed, she throws her arms around my neck and burries her face on my neck, "Quinn," she says.

I do my best to exude comfort in the way I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in for a hug. I want her to feel safe in my arms, always, no matter what. For as long as she needs me to, I let her hug me.

We end up laying on her bed. Me against the wall, her cuddled inside my arms. She's still crying, but she's shaking less. We don't try to talk. I'm just really here to be here. If she wants to talk, I'm all ears but I don't want to pressure her into doing anything she doesn't feel like doing.

She does this thing where she runs her fingers up and down my arms. She's always done that, and it feels comforting. I remind myself I'm not here to comfort me, but her. Hopefully that's doing the trick for her too.

Once I realize she's stopped crying, I say, "I'm really sorry."

She just nods, her head moving against my chest.

"Were you close?"

Her voice is hoarse, "we were..." she sniffs, loudly, and exhales shakily, "close-ish."

I know who she was, and that's not what I was getting at. I just wanted to know if they were more than just Friends With Benefits. Maybe they were just With Benefits. I don't comment on it, I just ask something else, "have you eaten?"

"I had half a bowl of soup Mike made, last night."

"Your dad's making pancakes. I believe they're banana pancakes, your favorite," I try to cheer her up. It won't really bring her friend back, but it might make her feel better, even if temporarily.

She sighs, "I'm not that hungry right now, actually..." her voice simply grows quieter.

"Okay," I allow. "For now, okay? I'll go get you some pancakes in a little while."

She nods again. I at least know she's listening.

I hope she doesn't mind me talking, "mom's asked me to tell you that she's thinking of you. She made me promise I'd tell you that her and dad are always available for whatever you need."

She smiles against my chest, I can feel it. I remember the way that feels perfectly. It's not a big smile, it's a small smile, an honest but sad smile, "she's so sweet. I really appreciate that, Quinn."

I squeeze my arms around her tighter, "same goes for me."

"I know," she says and continues tracing her fingers up and down my arms. "Thank you," she tells me. "For coming, you didn't have to but I'm glad you're here."

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I just know it's Santana. She probably woke up in my home without me there, and I realize how awkward that must have been but also that I don't care if it comes to Rachel. Santana probably won't care either, she'll just go to Britt's anyway. I'm sure she's texting to know about Rachel.

After a while of silence, she offers, "...I knew she was dead. The moment I realized what had happened..." She stops talking just as abruptly as she had started.

I sigh, because I hate it that Rachel went through something as awful as being with someone when they die. "I know it's terrifying," I say, although I don't really know anything about it. I wish I could sympathize with her in a way that made her hurt less.

"I'm - she was... Great, Quinn." She says. "I know that you must not like her given our...relationship," she begins. "But, god, she was a good person. Funny, smart, sweet."

I stay quiet because I have a feeling Rachel just wants to talk about her friend. I feel stupid for ever being jealous of the girl but that's in hindsight and unfair.

"I was a fucking jerk to her the first time..." She breathes out, "I left the next morning with Santana to get breakfast. Left her on my bed alone and naked. She must've felt - fuck. What kind of a person am I?"

"You're an amazing person, Rach. Everyone knows that," I tell her even though I know it was a rhetorical question.

She pttfs. "She actually called me later that day, saying that it wouldn't bother her if we just... Fucked." Rachel kind of laughs, "And complaining I didn't bring her breakfast in bed, as a joke. We came to an agreement where it was just about the sex but we sort of managed to form a friendship too, beneath all of that."

I don't comment on anything this time.

"Dammit. Why - I asked to drive! I should've been driving. I just..." she stops herself, tries to calm down by softly counting to five then, "The other car lost control; it wasn't his fault either."

"oh, honey," I say. "Don't put yourself in her position. You couldn't have known that this was going to happen. Her driving or you driving - it was an accident."

She grows quiet for about ten seconds. "I know."

Santana Skypes later that night. She berates me for leaving without letting her know but is thankful that I did go.

Rachel's been in bed most of the day and her fathers and I have been trying to get her to get up to eat. At least walk to the kitchen, so she's moving and doing things, but she insisted that she wasn't hungry.

With Santana on Skype, we had another one in our team telling Rachel she needs to eat. At some point in the conversation Santana bribed her with a very specific look that made Rachel stand quickly and walk out of the room.

I don't know what she said or what the look meant but it worked, so I don't care. I say bye to Santana and follow Rachel out. Leroy has made spaghetti and Hiram baked cookies. They're such supportive parents and I love watching them work together.

"How's Santana?" Hiram asks, putting a plate full of pasta in front of Rachel and another in front of me.

Rachel doesn't reply, she just starts to eat, slowly.

I look at her and then at Hiram with a sigh, "she's fine. Misses us."

"Rachel," Leroy calls her attention.

She barely looks up, chewing seems like it's such a hassle for her at the moment.

"Never mind," he mutters. He grabs his own plate and sits across from us. Hiram pulls the chair next to him and sits too. They have glasses of wine and Rachel and I are drinking water.

"Honey," Hiram tries instead. "We know this is traumatizing. Do you - if you need to talk to someone..." He stops to take a breather, trying not to come off too strong. "We think you should see someone."

Rachel doesn't even acknowledge what they say. I can see her staring off into space as if she's not even in the same table as us. I put my hand on top of hers and feel how cold she is. She looks at me when I do that and shakes her head slightly, "yeah?"

"Your dads are trying to talk to you. It's important."

She looks at them, really trying to focus. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby girl." Leroy says sympathetically. He looks concerned. "Your father and I just think you should see a psychiatrist."

"I'm fine," she assures them with a swipe of the hand and then goes back to slowly eating.

"But baby -" Hiram tries but Leroy stops him with a hand to the arm. They exchange a look and then decide not to press on it at the moment. She needs more time.

I don't say anything. I'm not really sure how much I can really comment on and share my opinion. I mean, I agree that she needs to talk to someone though.

After only three bites of her food, Rachel excuses herself and leaves us to retire back to her room.

The three of us left at the table don't know what to do.

"When's the funeral?" Hiram asks, looking at his plate. "I mean, it's awful, I know, but I just want to get it done with it so we can take her home..."

Leroy speaks, "it's tomorrow morning. We can leave the next day."

"Quinn?" Hiram says. "Will you be going back with us to Lima?"

"I mean, I will if you want me to. But I do have to go back to work sometime."

"Your decision, honey." Hiram tells me. "Are you planning on going to the funeral tomorrow?"

I nod. There's no way in hell I'm letting Rachel go through that alone. I've never had someone so close to me die, and I would hate it if I had to go through it by myself. "I always want her to have a hand to hold," I tell them.

The look they give me is teary but hopeful. There's a blanket of sadness around us but at the same time, I can tell they're proud of me. I just want be always be as good as I can for their daughter. This is not me making up for what I did that ended our relationship, or me trying to get her back. Rachel's a beautiful person and she deserves someone she trusts next to her.

"Thank you, Quinn," Hiram whispers and puts his hand over mine as I had done to Rachel earlier. He squeezes and says, "for everything."

"I've never done this before..." Rachel says quietly while she's pulling up her black pantyhose.

I watch her from the bed, intoxicated by the way she moves. "Me neither," I tell her. She doesn't look up.

She doesn't realize how gorgeous she looks right this very second. Her hair falls in waves over her bare shoulder, her breasts perk up deliciously under the red bra she's wearing. Toned abs lead my eyes straight to the matching red underwear she has on, which lead to glorious legs.

I quickly turn away when I realize I have been staring and I no longer have the right to. I feel like a perv, especially when she's getting ready for such a solemn event.

But the way the pantyhose roll up those legs really catches my attention again.

No. I can't really do this. I look away and walk across the room to focus on fixing my hair on the mirror. It's pinned up and to the side, the opposite direction of the cut on my dress. I'm here to support Rachel in her time of sadness, not to ogle her as she gets dressed.

I'm pretty sure she hasn't even considered the fact that she's getting ready in front of me. She's in her underwear and pantyhose, and it's probably never once crossed her mind that I'm in the same room as her. I feel selfish.

"Hopefully it's a quick ceremony..." she trails off as she's grabbing her dress from inside her closet.

I let my eyes turn toward the sound of her voice, and she emerges from the closet in tall black heels and still no dress on. I gulp and shake away the thoughts that assault my head from the image. Damn it, Fabray. Keep it in check.

She places the dress on the bed calmly and stands in front of it. She bends over to unzip it, legs going for miles before ending on her behind, up in the air. She lifts the dress and puts it on over her head, the fabric finding the places it needs to hang onto on her body. She fixes a few places here and there until it feels comfortable and then looks over her shoulder. "Will you zip me up?"

The request just about kills me. The look does. I want to say no, because seeing her like this is affecting me way more than it should. And I need to be respectful of her feelings and of our situation. I'm not sure if touching her while these thoughts run through my head is appropriate.

I say, "sure."

It takes longer than it should for me to cross the room to where she is. I'm over-analyzing it, I know this. But I can't help it that I'm getting so nervous about it. My hands hover her back for a few seconds before I actually let them touch. My chest begins to feel tighter as I force myself not to breathe, afraid of any sudden moves; as if any movement can shatter the moment.

"Quinn?" Rachel says. Her voice breaks through my daze.

My eyes have closed. They open. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to zip me up?"

There's a shaky smile before I say, "oh yeah, of course."

Before I can over-think it again, I grab the zipper and pull it all the way to the top. "There." As soon as I'm done, I put about ten feet of distance between us.

When she turns around, the distance seems irrelevant. She's absolutely gorgeous, no matter what. Is it socially acceptable to compliment someone on the way they look to a funeral? I decide not to say anything, because I don't want to confuse Rachel anymore than she is.

"Ready?" She asks me and I nod.

I'm ready. This isn't for me to be ready to; she needs to be ready.

I need to be strong for her. I am here to be her rock.


	7. Badge and Gun (John Mayer)

I feel myself shiver slightly when I realize that Quinn is wrapped so tight around me. I'm still not over the fact that she came all the way to New York to be with me as I go through this ordeal. I know our relationship is not that simple and I know we've yet a lot to talk about, but her breath on my neck is comforting to say the least.

The fact that she came for me means the world. And it means that she still cares for me.

My head hurts, I think from the sun, but also because today is the day I have to bid goodbye to a good friend forever. This is not something I've ever had to do before and the thought that I'll never see her again scares the shit out of me. I pull Quinn tighter to me, subconsciously, and begin to count my breathing. Maybe this way I'll be able to clear my head.

Quinn stirs behind me and mumbles, "good morning." It's so familiar, I don't know how to react. Most of the time she's been here I've been thankful because she keeps my mind sane but waking up with her in my bed, holding me, it's too much. We're not together so it kills me.

I think she realizes this because she mutters something and slowly extricates her arms from around my waist. "Sorry," she says and I feel the bed dip when she turns away from me to face the wall. Now it just feels cold.

As much as my heart wants to talk about it, my head tells me to ignore it. Again, we are not together; we're barely friends at this point.

Well, it's complicated. I mean, if she's willing to come be with me without a second of hesitance when she knows I need her, then we are probably at least friends but... you know how this goes. It's the push and pull of a relationship that's not really over. It's a dance with one partner denying it's happening and the other having to struggle to keep up.

I get up to shower. I can't stand thinking about this - this being Hey and her funeral and Quinn. Picking up my towel from a chair on the way to the bathroom, I pretend to not have noticed just how sexy Quinn looks.

"I've never done this before..." I tell her once I'm showered and sitting on a chair across the bed, rolling my black pantyhose up my left leg.

She's watching me from the bed, I can feel her stare. "Me neither," she says, but I don't look. I know that if I look, I won't be responsible for the actions that follow.

Only now that I'm in this compromising situation do I realize that changing in front of my ex-girlfriend probably isn't the most logical thing I could have done. I am grieving, so I partly excuse myself, but I also berate myself for not considering her feelings.

She thinks I can't see her turn away, but I can. So she walks across the room to the mirror next to my chair and fixes her hair. It looks classy and respectful, pinned up to the side. She is wearing a dark blue lace dress, so dark that I could barely tell it's not black.

While I walk to the closet to grab my dress, I comment, "Hopefully it's a quick ceremony..." I don't think I could stand it if it was too long and sad. All I can think about is how I was the last person to have been with Hey and how I wasn't the best for her; I didn't treat her as well as she deserved it. And I practically robbed every other person in her life of sharing that last moment with her. I put my heels on and pull the dress from the hanger.

I stand in front of the dress, Quinn forgotten, contemplating about what I'm supposed to tell Hey's parents about our relationship.

I pull the dress over my head and fix it in places before looking over my shoulder at Quinn, "Will you zip me up?"

She says, "sure," and I am both relieved and not. After asking, it comes to me that it might not be easy for either of us. Sure, it's just zipping up a dress but that can be rather intimate, and in my current state, I don't feel like I am able to keep my emotions in check like Quinn always expects me to.

It takes a while for her to get to me, and I still can read her really well, I know. She is over-analyzing it, much like I am, but I can't help that. I hope she doesn't think I'm hitting on her, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't anticipating the moment her hand touches me again. Her warmth brings comfort and familiarity and it's all I'm asking for.

I feel her hands hover over my shoulders, unable to do the simple task at hand and I wonder if she's just that repulsed by the thought of touching me. "Quinn?" I ask.

She asks, quietly, "Yeah?"

"Are you going to zip me up?"

I finally hear the tremble in her voice, "oh yeah, of course."

"There," she says with finality as soon as she's done. She walks away and I try not to be hurt by her needing the distance, even if all I want and need right now is for her to hold me.

I wish that I could tell her that I no longer expect her to be around and support me; I wish I could tell her I don't need her to be my rock, but that's a lie. All I want is her. And despite the fact that her face is so worn down, she still looks as striking as ever. You'd think we were going to her friend's funeral and not mine. I wonder if this - her being here - is taking that much of a toll on her. If it is, she shouldn't have come at all. Maybe she realized that being my friend is not exactly what she wanted, that she regrets coming here.

I turn toward her and ask her that without those exact words, "Ready?"

She nods and doesn't look away for once. And it's when she walks back to me and interlocks our fingers that I know she doesn't regret it at all.

That night, after the funeral and burial and the whole thing, I am laying on my back on my bed, with eyes closed.

I hear the door squeak open and feel the bed dip not a few moments later.

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier," Santana says and I open my eyes wide, to check that it really is her. When I have visual confirmation, I throw myself at her and sob into her shoulder. "Quinn didn't really tell anyone she was coming... I - I wanted to be here earlier."

"Oh, thank you so much," I whisper, not for dramatics but because the knot in my throat won't allow me to speak any louder. "Thank you for coming."

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

I pull her down on the bed with me and wrap her arm around my midsection. This is much safer, with Santana. With Quinn there's too much at risk. "Just be here."

"Ok. I am here."

"Where's Quinn?" I ask, a few minutes later, when the haze in my head has cleared some.

Santana sighs behind me, I feel her stomach press against my back. "She went out. Didn't say where she was going."

I try not to care but I can't, so instead I turn around to face Santana. She doesn't let go of me. "Sarah, then."

"Probably," Santana doesn't lie to me, but does add, "I think she might just be a friend though."

"Clearly someone important if she leaves me here to go to her."

"In her defense," Santana starts slowly, careful not to hurt my feelings, "you are broken up. And she has done more than any of us could have expected."

I know she's right. I know that I have no right to complain about her seeing Sara, but it fucking hurts. "I mean, yeah, but she knows that I'm -"

"She does. That's why she waited until I got here to go."

I want to cry again, not for Hey this time. As selfish as it sounds I want to cry for me. I want to cry for the death of the one great thing in my life; I want to mourn for my relationship with Quinn. "It still feels somewhat inconsiderate."

"Maybe. You could try telling her that," Santana suggests. "But knowing Quinn, that probably wouldn't go over well."

"Fuck. I hate still feeling like this," I admit.

"I'm sure that she isn't trying to hurt your feelings, Rach. But being here with you over someone you used to... well, fuck - for lack of a better term, probably wasn't easy for her either. I'm sorry I have to be the one to remind you of that."

And she is right, again. Because I forgot to consider that, didn't I? That, despite her trying to be cool about it all, it's still awkward and that still didn't keep her from traveling to be with me. She also made sure I had my best friend before leaving and she didn't tell me so I wouldn't be more upset. I feel awful, being upset at her. I wish I could take all of these feelings, bottle them up, and throw them in the ocean for them to drift far far away.

"Do you think she still likes me?"

"I know she still loves you," Santana reassures me. "But I think that she needs to realize that for herself, in her own time. In her own way. Sometimes that means going out with other people; dating others. And, whether she still loves your not, Quinn will always care about you."

That's reassuring to hear and it makes me smile. I can't believe that I actually agree with the idea of Quinn seeing other people, but if it means that she will come back to me in the end, then I'm more than happy to make the sacrifice.

I change subjects, "Dad and Daddy?"

"Cooking. We need to make sure you're eating right. I hear that's still somewhat of a problem."

I sniff, drag my sleeve across nose, "I don't have an appetite."

Santana shrugs, "you still have to eat."

"Whatever," I mumble. "Not like it matters."

"Hey!" Santana says, pissed. "Of course it matters. I need you alive and healthy. We all do. Even Quinn."

"Anyway," I say, not really wanting to go back to that topic. "How's Britt?"

Santana indulges me, knowing that I'm not asking out of the goodness of my heart, but letting me know anyway. In fact, she goes on for hours on end about how she and Britt are doing, and how their road trip was. I appreciate her for wanting to help me keep my mind off where things are, so I cuddle in closer and let her voice drift me to sleep.

The next morning, over breakfast, my parents bring up the idea of seeing a therapist once again. I try to avoid the topic, but with Santana's help they manage to convince me to at least attend one session. Apparently, I've been through a very traumatic experience. Watching someone die. Yeah, so, what if it is traumatic? Why can't I just go back to life as I know it and ignore all the doubt and anger in my heart?

I quit the show.

Spring Awakening.

That same morning, after they confirm my appointment with the doctor, I call the director and tell him I quit.

Nobody understands my decision, really. Santana seems like she wants to be supportive, but she mostly sighs annoyed and then walks away.

My parents try to reason with me, but I don't really feel like being in a show, singing and dancing when life is so depressing around me. Besides, the plot line is just as fucking depressing as my life and although the music hits home, so do the feelings and I would slowly lose my mind over it.

My director promises that the moment I feel ready and that I ask for the role back, it's mine.

I'm packing up my stuff to go to Lima when Quinn opens the door to my bedroom and clicks it shut behind her.

"So you're leaving when?" She asks, tense.

"Um, tonight. I think the flight leaves at 7."

Quinn shifts, crosses her arms and huffs. "Rachel." She uses that tone of voice that I know means she'll reprove me. She doesn't agree with something that I did and I can guess what it is.

"Save it," I tell her and continue packing. "I'm not really in the mood for your lectures."

"My lectures!" She shouts, agitated. I try not to let it get to me because I know the past week has been rough for all of us. "Rachel! You do understand you quit Spring Awakening!"

"Uh, yes, I know."

"And you don't see how that upsets me...? Okay," Quinn runs a hand through her short hair and offers, "you and I almost broke up over that damn show! This is everything you've always worked for and you're throwing it away!"

"I'm not," I say, stubborn as always. "And as I recall, we are broken up anyway so I don't see how that is any your concern."

She stops pacing in my room and looks at me, "wow." Her eyes widen and she takes a few steps back toward my bed. "Rachel, that's not the point. What I was trying to say is that clearly this show means something to you. You can't quit because you're sad. You'll get through this and you'll need something to do. You'll hate yourself when y-"

"Shut up, Quinn! Shut up! Don't tell me how I'll feel! Stop acting like you know me so well, because apparently you don't care to know me still!" I throw my hands in the air and turn around, picking up shoes from around me to pack. "If you did, we wouldn't be apart, would we?" I turn to face her and await her response.

"That's not fair. You know it's not that easy. Don't you see I'm telling you this because I only want what's best for you?!"

"Life isn't easy, Quinn, but you don't get to lecture me about this."

She sags on my bed, the fight flushing out of her, "I'm here for you, Rachel. I came back to New York just for you. How can you think I don't care for you?"

Her elbows prop on her knees, hair falling over her face. I feel sorry for being so rash, but I don't really apologize. I just sit down on my chair and breathe out, slowly.

"I -" she starts, pulling her eyes up to meet mine. "What could I have possibly done now to make you believe that?" She asks, hurt flashing in her eyes.

I can't tell her about Sarah. I can't let her know about how my heart feels so heavy and it's not only because of Hey. "Stop, Quinn," I practically beg. "Please. Because I can't deal with this, not right now. Not right now," I repeat and close my eyes. "I have just lost a friend, my heart can't take anymore pain."

She stands quickly and closes the distance between us, dropping in front of me. She kneels on the floor and grabs my hands. "I don't want to cause you any more pain," she tells me. "And I'm so sorry for everything I have said or done that might have been hurtful. I - Rachel, please reconsider Spring Awakening. You deserve a break but - you're brilliant in it."

"I -" I pull my hands back and try to come up with an excuse but she interrupts me before I can.

She shifts on her knees, her lips pulling into a small smile. "You're so, so good," she whispers, her eyes shining bright as if she's just seen El Dorado, the City of Gold. The raw quality of her voice, the raspy voice I love so, is demanding, "I can see you on that stage, claiming the spotlight even when you're not supposed to be. Your portrayal of Wendla is - Rachel, you are her. You make me want to run up and hug you every time, even though I'm supposed to know it's only a character. You are the face of that show! Remember how much you wanted it? Remember?"

I want to kiss her.

And I hate myself for it, but I do it anyway.

I grab her by the neck, pull her up from her knees - she places her hands on the chair beside either one of my thighs for support, and lets me.

The world literally stops.

I can feel myself grimace. I extricate my hands from her neck and hold her cheeks instead.

My eyes open, slowly, but our lips don't part.

She's right there - hazel eyes holding mine down.

She breathes out against my lips and then drags hers across them, to land on my cheek.

"I'm sorry," I try.

"Don't be," she says.

My hands fall from her, landing on my thighs. "But I am."

"Rachel," she reaches for them again but I turn away.

"Quinn, I didn't meant that. I - it's not right. Not right now."

I can see the hurt on her face as she stands, licking her lips as she does so. "Okay, yeah, you're right."

My jaw is quivering, my hands shaking too. I don't know how to deal with anything that's happening to me. "Quinn." I say, trying to salvage something of what we fixed while she was here. "I'm - I -" I stop talking. I breathe, she looks away. "Please, don't pull away from me again."

"I won't, Rach." She tells me and I believe her.

But then she turns and leaves me anyway, door creaking as she goes.


	8. Trusty and True (Damien Rice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol... sorry for the delay? but i intend on finishing this story even if no one is reading it. it is almost done too! :) I'm actively working on the next chapter instead of doing my reading for grad school so there's that.

 

Rachel kisses me. And I hate myself for it but I let her: when she grabs me by the neck and makes me stand up - I put my hands on the chair beside either of her thighs for more support - I lose myself. I have been trying to control the feeling for way too long. Her pressing lips on mine are a reminder that she loves me just as much as I love her, that  _that_ aspect of our relationship has never changed.

I'm too lost in the kiss. Rachel begins to hesitate and I feel her unwelcome grimace on my lips as much as hers. She tortuously drags her hands from my neck and holds my cheeks.

I'm ready for this. If she wants to try again, I'm so ready for it, it's a little pathetic. I held out for so long and in one kiss she melts me into a puddle that belongs to her and only her. She keeps me alive. I can feel the words that will come out of her lips before she even formulates them but when her eyes open I hold her gaze with mine begging her not to say it.

 

Finally I know it's time. I breathe out against her mouth, giving her back all my soul, and kiss her on the cheek.

She tries, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I assure her but I'm embarrassed. 

She removes her hands from me leaving only coldness in its wake. "But I am." These words hurt. I'm here now, why can't we do this?

"Rachel," I try again to grab her hands, I don't want her to put distance between us any more than we already have.

Her next words break my heart, "Quinn, I didn't meant that. I - it's not right. Not right now."  _I didn't mean that_. She didn't want to kiss me after all. She didn't want to let me kiss her. 

I tell her, "Okay, yeah, you're right," but I can't help the need to ugly cry that surges within me. I don't know what to do, just know that my feet are itching to run out of here. 

She's trembling and I want to help her; hold her, protect her but she seems like she doesn't want me to touch her at the moment and because that's the only other thing I can think of to do, I know I have to go. "Quinn," she says. I look at her but my vision is already blurred from unshed tears and if I stay a minute longer she'll see me break down. "I'm - I -" she stops talking and I look away so she doesn't see the first tears beginning to fall. And then: "Please, don't pull away from me again."

I work on sounding strong. "I won't, Rach."

But then I leave, sobs getting me on the way out the door.

* * *

 

Before I even know what I'm doing I'm knocking on her door with desperation pouring out of me. The door flings open and Sarah looks surprised before her eyes soften and she drags me in. "You've been crying."

I want to shake my head no but when I take my hands to my cheeks they come back wet and all I can do is nod. "I'm sorry -" I try to apologize. "I just - I needed to get out and -" I feel sick. I left; I ran. After Rachel asked me not to go I did exactly that and now here I am bawling outside the door of my not-girlfriend that has a crush on me. I like Sarah, I really do, but I can't seem to let go of Rachel long enough to commit. When she kissed me, I felt whole again despite the huge hole in my heart.

Sarah sighs and I see a momentary look pass by her eyes. She pities me. I don't want her pity and in the frustrated daze I'm in, I surge forward and kiss her messily. She takes in a strangled breath of air and poses both hands on my hips to steady herself. She kisses back for a minute, but very soft, tender, and then slowly moves away from the kiss while at the same time a gentle hand pushes me on the couch. "What are you doing?"  _This isn't fair,_ goes unsaid but her eyes scream it.

I shake my head,  _I don't know_. She sits on the ottoman across from me and rubs her palms on my thighs. It's not sexual but it feels nice. I lean my head back on the cushion of the sofa and breath out, "I fucked up." I don't mean only tonight. I mean for good part of the year I've been a string of fuck ups, mostly directed at Rachel, and today has been the last straw. I ran. She'll be devastated. "She hates me."

"Rachel?" Sarah asks with an understanding tone as if knowing that's the answer already. Last night when I had come over, Sarah and I talked. I told her that I really cared about her and that she was one of my new favorite people but that I had come back to New York to be with Rachel while she was going through a rough time. I have to go home soon, in the next couple days or so, but I wanted Sarah to know that Rachel was back in my life and she is a priority to me.

I nod and she continues, "why do you think she hates you?"

I repeat, "I fucked up." Then I sigh and add, "I mean, this time  _she_ kissed  _me._ Like, _she kissed **me**_ and then got this real fucking guilty look on her face and told me it wasn't the right time but when the  _fuck_ will it be the right time?" I'm indignant now. I'm angry at her and at me, and I'm even a little angry at Sarah for being so patient and listening to me ramble on about my ex when Sarah is supposed to want to be with me. "She asked me not to pull away and guess what I did!" I throw my hands in the air then release an annoyed groan and sink back down. "I hate this."

"Quinn." Sarah says gently. She reaches for both my hands now and stares deep into my eyes commanding me to listen. I give up - the fight dissipates and I start crying again. She waits a long moment and then, "You have to go back to her."

"What?!" I get up in the shock from the statement and put distance between me and her as if it will keep the pain from her statement from hitting me straight in the chest. "No, I _cannot,"_ I stress.

She stands up and levels her stare at me, "you  _have_ to." She's not waiting for a response. She begins pushing me toward the door and I struggle and try to fight it but somehow this tiny Texan-Indian girl has pretty strong arms and backs me up to the door. 

"I can't," I try again weak and pathetic.

Sarah smiles and I want to like her, I really do, but I just - I miss _Rachel_ ; she's a part of me. Sarah tries again, "you really need to go back. She may end up thinking _you_ hate her... she kissed  _you_ , Quinn. She also just lost a friend. She's confused."

I stop and think about what she's telling me and yeah, she's right. For not knowing Rachel she pretty much figured her out. I nod and dry my tears. "You're so right," then give her a hug. "I'm _so_ sorry that I suck."

"You don't suck, Quinn," Sarah assures me with a chuckle. "You're amazing and Rachel is lucky."

The comment makes me blush and I look away biting my lip to avoid eye contact. I  _really_ want to want Sarah. Sarah would be easy. She's intelligent and beautiful and so much fun. She's caring and she is patient and she would be _so_ easy to love. But Rachel has my heart and my soul and my everything and she asked me not to pull away so I have to go back to her. "I'm really lucky to have a friend like you also."

Sarah cringes and pulls away, shoving me lightly out the door, "fuck, man, the friend zone?" She laughs and it makes me laugh through teary eyes and then goes, "text me what happens, I'm rooting for you dude." She places a hand on my cheek and encourages me one more time to go with a slight tap.

"I will." I leave Sarah's with resolve in my step and make it back in record time. It's eerily quiet when I knock on the door of Rachel's apartment and I'm half expecting no one to get the door. I'm turning to leave when the door flings open and Santana's at the door. Her face is indecipherable. I don't know what's about to happen but I wouldn't be surprised if Santana punched me in the face.

She doesn't even bother. She shakes her head, the quiet agitation only making itself known in the way her jaw clenches, "I swear to God, Fabray, I want to fucking murder you right now."

"I know." I tell her. "Me too."

"Good." She says. Quietly she adds, "I hate how much she loves you, honestly." And wow, I wasn't expecting  _that_. Santana and I are good friends, best friends even. The sentiment rips through my body and I am overcome by the sudden urge to cry again. I wipe my eyes to make sure no tears have escaped. I try to look tough for Santana. She can't see I'm weak.

She doesn't look sorry for saying it. She doesn't excuse herself, nor does she apologize, but she does move away and lets me through. I swallow the need to cry and my pride and walk past her but she grabs my arm, "fuck it up one more time, Quinn. If you break her heart again I'll break your face."

Noted. I nod and show her how serious I am about my intentions by crossing my heart. Santana takes that and walks out of the apartment, door slamming behind her.

I walk down the dark hallway and see the light streaming out from underneath the door. I summon all the courage I have and push the door open and find Rachel listening to  _Burn_ from _Hamilton_ while crying in bed in fetal position. Well, of course she is. I shouldn't have expected anything else - at least she picked a good song to hate me through.

"Hey," I say, hands behind my back. 

She opens her eyes with so much force that I think they'll fall out of her head. She sits up and a shaky breath escapes her body all at once. With hardened eyes she composes herself and says, "I thought you left."

I stand where I am and ask, "Can I come sit with you?" I let her think on it. I give her the time to make a decision and my heart is relieved when she nods her head. I sit down next to her and blow some air, "I -"

She doesn't say anything, waits with fidgeting hands in her lap. I know her enough to know she wants to go on a rant about how selfish I've been and how shitty I am and that she hates me but this Rachel next to me feels hollow and she doesn't even attempt to say another word. I feel lost for once and like I don't know her at all. What if I can't salvage us? What if I broke her for good?

I start at a place that seems obvious but overdue. "I'm sorry," I say finally.

She looks at me, her eyebrows furrowing in anger. "That's not enough." She says quickly, head shaking. "Not this time."

"I know," I say yet again. I'm quiet, trying to think of what to say and then I remember. "Hey," I scoot an inch closer. She stares at my thigh as if shocked with how close I am, as if  _daring_ me to move closer, as if  _hoping_ I will. I do. She looks up at me with wide eyes, "we promised to never go to bed mad at each other..."

"Quinn," she whines and looks away. "That sailed a long time ago. We've been broken up-"  _for 6 months_.

"I know," I cut her off. "I know we are broken up but _we promised_  and we have spent way too long breaking that promise, and Rach, I want to be someone of her word again - I want to commit to that promise again. With you."

She doesn't know what to say or do by the way her mouth opens and closes. She's thinking, then says, "you mean that?"

"Of course!" I open my palm on my thigh - an invitation for her to hold my hand, if she wants. We've had a long week, I sigh, "Will you commit with me?" She's quiet. I go on, open hand, waiting. "Rach," I insist, needing her to get invested. Her skepticism is keeping her from fighting for us. "I need you to say you'll commit with me otherwise we can't fix this."

That gets her to do something. She grabs my hand and throws it back to me, "who says I want to fix it?!" She stands and puts distance. "You keep breaking my heart!  _You_ keep... keeping us from fixing it!"

I remain collected as much as those words tear me up, "I am done breaking your heart. I was breaking mine too." She is fuming at her spot near the bed, her face stained by tears, hair a little wild, but oh so very beautiful. "Come back here," I ask softly.

This time she fights it a little less and sits down next to me, shoulders sagging. 

"I'm sorry it took me this long, and that it took something so tragic for me to realize that nothing else matters to me: you're it. Like, to hell with schedules and timing and my fucking insecurities. Rachel, I'm here for you at any capacity you'll have me. But I love you," I tell her. Her eyes shimmer with new tears threatening to fall. "I love you," I repeat to make sure it sinks in, "and I will wait for you for as long as you need. I'm sorry I wasn't patient before. I'm sorry I'm six months too late. I'm sorry that I broke you. I'm sorry that I was too proud -"

"Stop," she commands me. She reaches for my hand, the one I had offered earlier, and laces our fingers. "I want to commit with you - no more going to bed mad at each other."

"Thank god," I breathe out in relief. 

"But this -" she waves her other hand between us, "isn't fixed, Quinn. I just - I don't trust you as much as I love you too."

Nodding I tell her, "I know, and I don't expect us to be fixed overnight. God, Rachel, it's going to take so much work from the both of us to make sure this works..."

"I wish we could go back in time and go back to how we were in the beginning," she tells me wistfully, touching my fingers reverently, as if it's been years since she's had me in her hands.

I squeeze her hand, "I know..." I think about how to phrase this and then finally say, "but Rach, we'll never be able to go back to how it was. We  _can_ , however, be better than how it was."

She gives me a small smile. Then she says, "I feel dirty for being so happy." The reason why goes unsaid but I understand.

"I'm sorry," I say. "But you deserve some joy right now even if it feels wrong."

She hesitates before asking, "will you hold me?"

"Of course," I tell her. I move back toward the side of the bed pushed up against the wall and lay down, eyes never leaving hers. "Come on," I invite her closer with a head shake and a smile. She's sitting there, feet facing away from me, body turned toward mine, and the sweetest look passes over her eyes. She cries again. When she drops her head she wipes away the tears and makes her way to me. My heart flips and turns inside of my chest, unbelieving how this moment has finally arrived.

She settles against me and when I wrap my arms around her we both sigh, as if our bodies have found home again after six long months of being stranded in a desert. "God, I missed you," she whispers and hugs my arms wrapped over her waist. I nod behind her, words now hard to find because I'm overwhelmed by the emotions swirling around my head. I missed her too, so much, so I pull her tighter against me and drop a tender kiss on the top of her head. She turns around in my arms and looks up at me, "I'm glad you came back."

"I - couldn't not to," I say. "I didn't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you, Quinn."

"I know but you asked me not to pull away and I just, wanted to make sure I didn't."

The corners of her mouth pull up slightly. Her face is somber again then she says, "I'm sorry for giving you a reason to run."

"Hey," I pick up my tone of voice, "what do you say we stop apologizing for now? We'll have time to talk things out and figure out what we're doing. I really want to just be with you."

She smiles and nods, "yeah, ok. I can do that."

So we do. We lie there, together, for the first time in six months. We're broken, torn, and sad; wasted, hurt, and exhausted. But we are all of these things together - we're all of these things in repair.

* * *

"How are you feeling this morning?" She asks as soon as I open my eyes and stretch.

She's on the other side of the room, putting on socks and running shoes. "I'm great," I tell her. I haven't felt this rested in months. I really should be asking her how she feels but I don't yet, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going on a run," she tells me and gets up. It almost looks like she'll kiss me but she thinks about it and shakes her head. "I need to get out, you know? I feel... suffocated." She admits. I don't know if she's talking about me or just about life in general but I nod. She keeps talking, "I'll see you later?"

"Yup," I assure her. "I'll be here." After a couple minutes I ask, "you doing okay?"

"As okay as I can be. You help." I nod. She hesitates for a moment before moving toward the door, "Sarah?" I can see how vulnerable she feels asking about her and I think I should be upset at her for asking but I'm not. I want her to know that I'm in this one hundred per cent and that she can always count on me to be loyal and on her side. 

"Just a friend," I tell her. Her face doesn't show an emotion - I can't tell if she believes me. "I promise."

"Okay," she says. 

I hoped things would be easier to navigate after last night, but apparently in the morning light things can feel heavy all over. At least we're talking. 

"Have a good run," I tell her. She smiles. "I'm proud of you." I decide to add on. She beams at that.

"Um, okay. Thanks, Quinn." She leaves and closes the door behind her and I fall back in bed. It smells like everything Rachel. I am truly happy in what feels like years.

* * *

I fly home the next day. I call Rachel when I'm home and she tells me her fathers are planning on leaving the following evening. They're driving back and Santana is going with them. The three of them have also convinced Rachel to begin seeing someone when she's back home and although she's not excited, she said she's willing to do it if it will make them feel better. I assure her it certainly makes me feel better.

She tells me to visit her in Lima at some point and I agree. My mom walks in my room while we're talking about that trip. She's been smiling since I got home and told her I was on the phone with Rachel. She walks over to where I am and asks if she can speak to Rachel. I roll my eyes but hand her the phone and try to distract myself by getting some stuff ready for the next day.

"Rachel, honey," mom says. "It's so nice to talk to you again." Rachel says something that I can't quite hear but my mother laughs so I know she's charming her. Then my mother adds, "I want you to know that if you ever need anything you can ask, you know that right?" There's silence on this end and then, "of course, sweetie. Yes, and I am so sorry to hear about your friend... mmhm. Yes." There's more chatting from Rachel's end and then my mother adds, "oh! you should come here, too, then. I'll make you the lasagna I know you love."

I wait around until my mom finally tells Rachel that she needs to go and bids her goodbye, passing me the phone.

"I missed your mom," Rachel tells me.

"She is serious about helping with anything you need," I tell her.

Rachel sighs on the other side, "I know. She's amazing; you're amazing. Everyone's been so caring."

"How are you holding up?"

"I have only randomly started crying three times today."

"Shit, Rach. I'm sorry."

She sighs again, "it's - not a big deal. It just still feels surreal, you know?"

I don't know. I've never been through something like this before. I don't know the first thing about mourning or getting over something tragic like this. All I know is that I want Rachel to feel better, feel like herself again, be happy. So I say, "yeah. It must be strange. Did you go on a run today?"

"Yeah, I did. My fathers - man, I love them so much, - but they've been...  _there,_ all the time. I just need space."

"And Santana?"

"She's better at knowing when to give me space or when I need someone around -"

"- Yeah."

"- so yeah. Your mom told me to come up there."

"You should," I reply without missing a beat. "I would love to have you here."

She waits a moment and then asks, "is it also weird to you that we are both again in the cities we were in when we broke up but like, talking...? Like, it feels like we've come full circle?"

I tell her honestly, "I don't necessarily love it that this is the arrangement but I think that we should get past it... besides, you are taking a break from  _Spring Awakening_ for now, right?" I don't love it but I'll take advantage of it. "So I can't say that I hate knowing we'll be closer to each other."

She chuckles, "do you have a preference for when I should come up?"

"I think you should come as soon as possible. Maybe we can visit my sister when you do... Lea loves having you around."

"Frannie hates me, Quinn."

"She doesn't hate you," I reassure her. "She is just biased, you know, I'm her sister."

Rachel laughs, "Quinn -" I hum to let her know I'm listening but she relents, "fine. Fine! I'll go but please protect me from her wrath."

I laugh, "oh come on! She's not that bad."

"She literally called me two days after  _you_ broke up with me and promised she'd hurt me next time she saw me. This is that next time!"

I cringe at the memory of breaking up with Rachel. I was a mess for days, weeks after. I drove down to Cincinnati for the weekend and Frannie had a fit when she saw how skinny I was. "I'm sorry," I tell her. "That was a shitty thing to do."

"It's fine, Quinn, she wasn't wrong to be mad at me. I wasn't the best girlfriend to you then." I don't want to get into this territory. I feel like whenever we start thinking about that we end up getting hurt all over again. "I haven't apologized to how I made you feel yet... I am sorry."

I shake my head even though she can't see it and promise, "you don't have to."

"I do."

"Thanks," I say. I look at my clock - it's nearing midnight already. It's great to be able to pick up the way we used to talk as if nothing happened in between. "I should go. I have to work tomorrow."

"Thanks for calling."

"Thanks for apologizing."

"I miss you."

"We'll talk soon. Text me tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good night, Rachel. Sleep tight."

"Good night, Quinn. Bye!"

 


	9. Parachute (Ingrid Michaelson)

Quinn and I have been on the phone for a while. She got home from her flight in the late afternoon and immediately called me when she got home. It's nice that we can do this again. I'm talking to her about her coming to visit when I hear some shuffling and Judy on the line.

"Rachel, honey," she says.

"Hi Judy!" I greet her. I've always thought she's lovely and honestly, breaking up with Quinn sucked even more because I couldn't talk to Judy as often.

"It's so nice to talk to you again," she tells me.

"Judy - I sure did miss your voice. Do you know you're my favorite Fabray? But don't tell Quinn."

She laughs at my comment and then adds, with a concerned mother-like tone, "I want you to know that if you ever need anything you can ask, you know that right?"

I was afraid she'd say something about that. It's not that I don't appreciate it, it's just that I can't go one minute these days without someone bringing it up. I know for a fact that now Quinn will want to ask how I am. I tell her, "I appreciate it, thanks for thinking of me."

Judy responds, "of course, sweetie. Yes, and I am so sorry to hear about your friend..."

"Thanks, she was a great girl. Um, anyway, Quinn and I were talking earlier and she may come visit."

Judy says, "oh! you should come here, too, then. I'll make you the lasagna I know you love."

"I most certainly will. I do love whatever you cook but that lasagna is my favorite."

"Oh, Rach! I'm excited to see you here. We'll talk soon, okay? I have to go now, but it was great talking to you. Good night." She makes a smacking noise at me apparently sending a kiss via the phone. Strangely enough, it does makes me feel better. I did miss her a lot.

When Quinn's back on the phone I tell her, "I missed your mom," but forego mentioning how Judy is my favorite.

Quinn says, "She is serious about helping with anything you need."

I sigh, "I know. She's amazing; you're amazing. Everyone's been so caring."

"How are you holding up?"

"I have only randomly started crying three times today," I tell her honestly. There's no point in trying to pretend like I'm not still upset.

"Shit, Rach. I'm sorry."

I sigh again, "it's - not a big deal. It just still feels surreal, you know?"

Quinn's quiet for a moment and then says, "yeah. It must be strange. Did you go on a run today?"

"Yeah, I did. My fathers - man, I love them so much, - but they've been...  _there,_ all the time. I just need space."

"And Santana?"

"She's better at knowing when to give me space or when I need someone around -"

"- Yeah."

"- so yeah. Your mom told me to come up there," I bring up, trying to change the subject and remind Quinn that I want to see her again.

"You should," she replies without missing a beat. "I would love to have you here." I'm glad we're on the same page.

I ask, "is it also weird to you that we are both again in the cities we were in when we broke up but like, talking...? Like, it feels like we've come full circle?"

She hums on the other side, as if thinking and then, "I don't necessarily love it that this is the arrangement but I think that we should get past it... besides, you are taking a break from  _Spring Awakening_ for now, right? So I can't say that I hate knowing we'll be closer to each other." The response makes me smile. 

Still smiling, chuckling, I ask, "do you have a preference for when I should come up?" I want to do this as soon as possible; we have spent way too long apart to continue to be apart.

"I think you should come as soon as possible. Maybe we can visit my sister when you do... Lea loves having you around."

I groan, "Frannie hates me, Quinn."

"She doesn't hate you," Quinn says with laughter coating her voice. "She is just biased, you know, I'm her sister."

At that I'm laughing, "Quinn -!" She hums, so I give in, "fine. Fine! I'll go but please protect me from her wrath."

Quinn's quick to defend her, "oh come on! She's not that bad."

I literally gasp, "She literally called me two days after  _you_ broke up with me and promised she'd hurt me next time she saw me. This is that next time!" I'm starting to truly worry for my safety seeing as it seems like Quinn doesn't care whether her sister kills me or not.

That does it apparently, because Quinn apologizes, "I'm sorry. That was a shitty thing to do."

I feel bad now that Quinn's apologized for her sister; it's not her fault really. I wasn't the best girlfriend in the world and I couldn't expect Quinn to want to be with me if I barely made an effort, "It's fine, Quinn, she wasn't wrong to be mad at me. I wasn't the best girlfriend to you then. I haven't apologized to how I made you feel yet... I _am_ sorry."

Quickly she says, "you don't have to."

"I do."

"Thanks," Quinn says and I hate that I can feel the tension that's built up in the last minutes of the conversation. She says goodbye a little earlier than I would have liked and I can't help but think that it was because of this conversation, "I should go. I have to work tomorrow."

"Thanks for calling," I tell her.

"Thanks for apologizing."

I try to make sure we're still good, I'm only worried about us being _good._ "I miss you."

"We'll talk soon. Text me tomorrow?" It doesn't go unnoticed that she doesn't say it back, but I know it's just her way of being cautious.

Still I can't help it but be a little hurt, "Yeah."

"Okay, good night, Rachel. Sleep tight."

"Good night, Quinn. Bye!"

I'm thinking this is it - that we were doing so well and I went and ruined it. If there's one thing I'm good at is ruining relationships and breaking people. I want to take back the last five minutes of the conversation and remove the tension forever. I can't believe that I ever let it get this bad and now I can't go on without Quinn but I can't see how we'll get over this obstacle.

I get a text while I'm trying to understand what's happening. 

 **Quinn [11:56 PM]:** I miss you so much. Talk tomorrow, and see you soon! xx

I grin. Okay, so maybe all is not lost yet. 

* * *

I haven't been this excited in a while. Two weeks later I'm at the bus station waiting to be picked up by Quinn and I can't wait a minute longer. It's also the first day in weeks that I haven't woken up crying so maybe it means I'm healing. Maybe the thought of being with Quinn makes all of the other pain bearable.

I'm already outside of the terminal and she's texted me a few minutes ago saying she's almost here. It's summer, and it's bright out, and I'm starting to finally feel like the sun is out for me too. 

A few minutes later I recognize Judy's SUV pull up. I grin and I can see Quinn's smile so big that could almost rival the sunshine. Since she's in the pickup area I don't want to waste time and hold the line behind her so I just throw my suitcase in the seat in the back and race to the front. I throw my arms around her neck and breathe her in. She looks beautiful - I haven't seen her glowing like this in so long and it makes me even happier to be here. "Hi," I mumble against her shoulder.

She presses her arms tighter around me and responds, "hi, you. I'm so glad you're here. Sorry I'm late." It sounds like it was all said in one breath.

"You're right on time," I tell her. We pull away and I can't help the bashful feeling that comes over me when I hear her say that she's happy that I'm there, "I am glad too." I look at her and she's just as shy, it seems.

She clears her throat and says, "mother has been cleaning for like, days. Also she made you lasagna and cake."

I laugh, "I love your mom." 

Quinn pulls away from the curb and places her aviators back on (and damn it, I love those glasses). She smiles at me once again and hands over her phone, "you can pick the music. We'll be on the road a while thanks to rush hour."

I clap in excitement and grab the phone. I don't know what I was expecting - I mean, she had it before but it's been _months -_  but when I pull up her music app, there's a playlist _still_ called  _Rachel_ and I'm shocked. I drop the phone and fumble to pick it up. Quinn smiles and asks, "you ok?"

I nod and pick up the phone again. I need to ask. I mean, I pull up the playlist and they are beautiful songs. I play  _Shape of You_ first because she knows I love Ed Sheeran. "You have a playlist after me."

She coughs, caught. "I mean, yeah. I've always had it."

"I know," I reassure her. "I just thought -"

"No, I never deleted it." She admits, embarrassingly.

"Hm," I say, feeling like I've won something I wasn't sure we were even in competition for. "Good to know." I can't help the smirk that makes its way to my face and when Quinn looks over at me again, she groans, but then smiles. I know that she rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses but I feel amazing so I grab her hand. She doesn't seem fazed. In fact, she immediately turns her hand and laces our fingers and I've never felt more complete than now.

* * *

"RACHEL!" Judy greets me as soon as we step in the house. I'm surprised that even though I hear her first, Russell shows up first coming out of his office. 

"Hi, Rachel. It's so good to have you here," he tells me and hugs me. It feels comforting and his strong arms relax my body. The car ride with Quinn had been fine, great even, I just didn't know what to expect when I got here.

Finally, Judy shows up from the end of the hallway and runs to me while cleaning her hands on her apron. "Thank God you made it okay!" She embraces me even harder and then places hands on my face to check if I'm okay, "how are you, dear? Feeling better? Have you eaten today? I made lasagna!"

I chuckle, "so I've heard. I'm doing well, thanks Judy. How are you?"

Judy nods and then I see the tears falling from her eyes. Russell stands stoic behind her but with a small grin on his lips. They look proud. "Good! We're so good! Okay, girls, go wash your hands and then come down immediately for dinner." Judy is not kidding around when it comes to dinner so we excuse ourselves and make our way upstairs, Quinn quietly leading the way.

When we get to the landing she looks uncomfortable for a minute before speaking, "I... wasn't sure so I prepared the guest room for you." She clears her throat, "You choose."

I'm not sure if this means I should stay in the guest room or not but to be on the safe side I say, "guest room sounds great."

I am well-versed in the body language of Quinn though and see her eyes fall for a second before she smiles and points to the room next-door to hers, "please feel at home."

She doesn't step into the room, she simply excuses herself and goes to her own. I hear her door close and I want to go back and ask her to let me stay with her, but I don't. I swallow my pride and put my stuff down. The guest room and Quinn's room share a bathroom though, so when I open the door I see her standing on the other side looking surprised. She's taken off her shirt and is now in only shorts and a hot pink bra. I wave awkwardly, try to keep my eyes on hers, and close the door softly.

I chuckle under my breath when I get bearing of what's going on. I hear the lock click on the other side and feel stupid. I hear the toilet flush and then the sink turns on and off. The door unlocks on my side but it closes on the other.  _Please, God, let me survive this week_.

When we're both cleaned up and changed, we go downstairs together. The lasagna looks beautiful and both Russell and Judy seem to have been enjoying a first glass of wine already. "You girls hungry?" He asks, serving us both large portions.

The lasagna is heavenly. It may be my favorite food in the entire world, but specifically the one that Quinn's mom makes. I can't help it but moan when I eat it. I try my best to make it sound less obscene but it's orgasmic! I keep my eyes as far away from Quinn's as possible although I can feel her stare at the side of my face the entire time. When I look at her, she looks at her own food and starts eating.

Judy and Russell make light conversation with both Quinn and I. They ask about our plans for senior year. Quinn tries to steer the conversation back to me every time that they ask about her and I make a point to ask her about it later. After dinner, Judy brings out the strawberry shortcake cake she made. She serves me the biggest slice and when Quinn complains about it, her father gives her a second piece with a wink.

I look at Quinn and she's beaming. Her cheeks are reddish. She's gorgeous. The wine that we've been drinking has also been slowly making its way to our brain. She looks so loose and carefree. I want to see Quinn look like this forever. I want to test her wine lips and strawberry tongue. Fuck, who said this was going to be a good idea? 

She looks at me because apparently Judy's asked a question and I had been so out of it I didn't hear. I ask her to repeat it but Quinn's parents just laugh and say they're going to bed. I sit there in my embarrassment for a while until Quinn starts laughing also. She looks at me and bursts out in a cackle. "What?!" I ask.

"Nothing!" She says and gets up to clear the table.

" _Quinn_." I whine. She doesn't give in. I start helping out but still rambling, "this isn't funny, Quinn. Your parents were laughing at me. What did your mom ask?"

Quinn keeps a straight face as she loads the dishwasher. "I don't know. I was too busy staring at you." She stops what she's doing and leans on the counter in front of the sink, arms crossed in front of her.

What?

"Oh."

"Yeah." She says with a casual shrug. "Your face was just so funny." When I manage to make eye contact with her again her eyes are full of mirth. Their hazel is vibrant and almost green and I just want to soak it all in. 

I come closer trying my very best to put on a threatening face. "You take it back."

"Or what?"

I see the soapy sponge next to her and grab it in a quick motion, "or else!" I threaten her with the soapy sponge. Her eyes widen and she puts both hands up in an effort to make me reconsider. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry -" she laughs a little and it's very endearing and damn I missed her so much. "Your face wasn't  _that_ funny." She stops to think and decides with a nod that's what she wants to say, "was that convincing enough for you not to wet me with that?" Her nose scrunches up in disgust referencing to the sponge but I, however, got stuck in the  _wetness_ of it all.

I roll my eyes and drop the item in the sink because I need to get my mind out of the gutter. "Okay, I'll take it." I sit on a chair at the kitchen table and ask, "do you need any help here?"

She gives me a look that says,  _I know you didn't actually want to help_ , but says, "no, I'm almost done. How kind of you to offer though," she throws in with a sarcastic tone for good measure.

"Listen," I tell her in response, "I would have helped. I'm a _great_ guest."

"Only when my mom is around." 

"Whatever. My parents taught me to be helpful when visiting other peoples' homes."

"Did they skip the lesson on being helpful for your girlfriend?"

My heart stops in my chest.

I think she says it faster than her mind can catch up to it because I can literally see the moment she recognizes her blunder. Instead of acknowledging it though she blushes profusely and pointedly turns away. She busies herself with the remainder of plates and utensils that need to go into the dishwasher. I'm still trying to process the comment - her using the 'g' word really affected me more than I was expecting.

We aren't dating. We are not officially back together; we are working on getting there but the way she said it so naturally it was as if she didn't see any other options. As if it was already true; an inevitability. I suppose I should be as faithful. My heart grabbed the word and let it envelop it with promises of a future where it actually is true again. But alas, at this moment we are still exes. I say, "um, they said - uh, that if my girlfriend was already doing the job well enough I didn't have to interfere." It's a half joke, a blatant lie, but it's also an affirmation of the word. 

Very slowly she lifts her head to look at me. I want to tell her: hey I'm ready - I want to jump back into this thing with you right now and have no regrets, but I can't. I'm not entirely there yet. I want to be, but I am scared and as much as saying the word makes it more real it's not sufficient to calm the nerves of my heart. 

She replies cautiously, "your parents would never have said that." I shake my head in agreement. "So..." she leaves the question hanging in the air, waiting for me to supply an answer.

I shrug but let her know honestly, "I don't know what to tell you."

"Did it bother you when I called you that?"

I am almost upset at her question but it's not a stupid question, "I wouldn't use the word  _bother_. I was surprised, sure, but mostly hopeful."

"Good," she says with a confident smile. "Hopeful we can work with."

"Good," I echo her sentiment and smile and then make a show of turning around to go back upstairs. "I think I'm going to shower before bed. Did you need anything else from me?" I ask.

"Nope." She smacks her lips, gets that adorable pout on her face as if considering saying something else, and then repeats, "nope. I'm good."

I leave her there to finish doing her thing and rush to the shower. I stay in the shower longer than I intended. The water turns cold on me and that's when I know I should probably get out. I unlock her side of the door and then go into the guest room to start getting ready for bed. 

She knocks on the bathroom door softly and opens it wider. "Hey," she smiles at me, her face freshly wiped off of makeup. 

"Hey." 

She says, "I'm just here to say good night."

"Good night, Quinn."

"Good night. Sleep tight." She backtracks the way she came from and closes the bathroom door almost as softly as she opened it.

I sit on the bed and think. I mean, we are both well aware of each other's intentions and feelings. There's no use in pretending, right? Besides I am here; we shouldn't have to be weird around each other when it's obvious we want to touch. 

I follow her into her own room, and she seems surprised at my intrusion, but immediately adapts to the situation by opening her arms to let me crash into her body. "I don't want to sleep in the guest room," I mumble against her shoulder.

She chuckles and I feel the rise and fall of her lungs, "that's good, because I  _really_ don't want you to sleep in the guest room."

"Good." I say.

"Good," she echoes.


	10. Georgia (Vance Joy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two idiots spend the weekend together and talk about a ton of shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm OBSESSED WITH THIS SONG.

Rachel leaves me finishing up the dishes but it takes me a while to follow her upstairs after my "girlfriend" slip. When I finally decide to go upstairs, I notice she's still taking a shower. I change into my PJs - shorts and a cheerleading shirt - and sit on the edge of my bed texting Britt about what just went down. Britt encourages me that it'll be okay, that Rachel loves me and that we're meant to be. I stay there, not really sure what i'm waiting for until I hear the shower turn off and eventually the door clicks open. 

To give Rachel time to change into something, I go into the bathroom and remove my makeup. I go as slow as I can manage but then there's nothing left to do so I knock on her door. 

I open the door smiling softly, "Hey." 

She smiles right back, "Hey." She looks fresh and I want to wrap her in my arms but know that's probably not what I should do.

I say, "I'm just here to say good night."

Her expression doesn't change, nor does she move closer. I don't move either. I stay right where I am planted only a few feet away from my escape. She says, "Good night, Quinn."

"Good night. Sleep tight." I go back to my room and exhale. That went well right? I didn't say anything stupid or inappropriate and we didn't move back a million steps when it comes to our relationship. 

I am still over-analyzing our interaction when I hear movement on her side. If I know Rachel like I claim to I can guess what's about to happen. She bursts into my room and I immediately open my arms to let her crash into me - what's the use in pretending that this isn't exactly what we both want? What we both _need_?

She mumbles against me, wisps of warm words falling on my shoulder, "I don't want to sleep in the guest room." 

I chuckle in relief and admit, "that's good, because I  _really_ don't want you to sleep in the guest room."

"Good." she says.

"Good," I respond. We stay in this way for a few more minutes, neither of us making a move to let go or talk. The silence feels healing. I'm standing in my childhood bedroom but _she_ feels like _home_. Eventually I whisper, "want to lie down?"

And when she nods I take her hand and lead her to my bed. She follows quietly and lets me pull her as close to my body as possible. "Let me know if you're uncomfortable with this," I say.

She shakes her head and pulls my arms tighter around her waist. "Feels right," she sighs. Thanks," she says, "for letting me invade your space."

I dismiss it with a shrug, "you're not invading. You belong here."

"I -" she starts. Then she turns in my arms, hands still claiming my waist, "I want to work on _this,_ " she tells me eyes narrowing. Her words sound like everything I want to hear but the way she looks right now keep my heart in check. I know she's not done, "but I can't help but wonder..."

I gulp, waiting to hear how she concludes the thought. I don't want her to shut down on me though. That used to happen often because we're both kind of shitty communicators when we're being stubborn but I _also_ want to work on this. "Yeah?" I urge her.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and this is one of those cliche thoughts, but that makes me envy those teeth. I want to have that lip in my possession but know that I should be focused on what she's trying to tell me instead of what I want to do. 

It's her time to shrug, "I can't help but wonder if we'd be where we are right now had something not happened..." the rest goes unsaid but I know where she's getting at. She takes her time, licks her lip (I envy her tongue now) and then, "I just can't help it."

It shouldn't surprise me but it does so I do everything I can not to show the effect her words have on me. I don't even know how to go about this so I opt for honesty. My voice betrays me because it comes out a lot more vulnerable than I intended, "I don't really know..." However, even with honesty being the best course I'm afraid of what her reaction will be to my words so I tighten my embrace. 

"I figured," is what she goes with. "I wish it _didn't matter_ but it does."

"I -"

"Would you have reached out to fix things?" She presses.

"I don't know, Rach," I let out. "I want to believe I would but you know me: I'm stubborn as a mule." I think about it and conclude, "but we were already working on  _working_ on it, right? I'd like to think we'd figure things out eventually."

"Yeah," at that she giggles - soft and airy and beautiful - and I'm just happy this conversation hasn't turned her away yet. "What should I have done differently?" She asks next. My heart breaks at the question because it implies she was the reason why we were apart for so long. "Before the whole serenade ordeal that sent us on this downward spiral?"

I push her away only enough to make eye contact. "Nothing. Rachel, it wasn't  _you_. _I_ fucked up."

"Well," she shakes her head, "I guess it doesn't pay to dwell on it, right?" When she smiles my stomach twists. I want to take away the burden that has been thrown on her in the recent months and leave her light. I also really don't want her to blame herself for what's happened so I insist.

"Yeah, it doesn't, but I need you to tell me you understand that it wasn't your fault."

She stares for a while then avoids her sight. She comes closer again, burrowing her face in my neck. "It wasn't all you either," is all she says. I know that if I try to keep talking we'll only end up arguing and that's not something I want to get into so I let it drop. It's peaceful now. There's the distant sound of a dog barking and a car drives by. Then when I think she's fallen asleep she asks, "hey. Why did you keep avoiding your parents' questions about your future?"

At this I really do tense up. She must notice because she begins caressing my back as if to calm me and encourage me to speak. Very quickly I come out with it, "I quit cheerleading and I'm looking into grad schools."

"You did what?" She asks in surprise. It's not like I had never before told her about wanting to quit - in fact, I have maybe hundreds of times. I guess she must be surprised I finally went through with it.

I say, "at the end of last semester I told Coach that I wasn't coming back."

"Oh." Then, "For Anthropology, right?" Rachel confirms my grad school hopes. She sounds cautious, worried I may have also changed that part of the plan.

"Yeah."

"So you're avoiding telling your parents the cheerleading thing...?"

"I'm not," I reassure her. "I'd rather hear about your plans."

She humphs and then, "I'm not going back to  _Spring Awakening_." Of course. I didn't want to bring it up but now that she has it's kind of silly to pretend I haven't been worried about it. Before I say anything else though she adds, "not yet, anyway."

Instead of trying to convince her otherwise I try to be understanding even if I don't agree. Instead I reveal, "I've been looking at programs. I really like a program in Washington state and another in Texas." I hear her breathe in. I keep going not to give her the wrong idea, "but before I applied I wanted to discuss it with you. See what you think?"

Hesitantly, she asks, "Washington or _Texas_ , Quinn? You're planning to move away?" Which - I get her concern. Long-distance ruined us once already. She rolls away at this, completely untangles herself from me and turns on the lamp on my nightstand. She props herself up on an elbow and narrows her eyes at me for what it seems like the fifth time in one night. Her hair cascades over her shoulder and I find myself distracted by how astoundingly beautiful she is like this until she asks, "Should I be worried?"

"No," I reassure her and sit up also. I lean back on my headboard and let my head fall in her direction. I don't know what to tell her except for the fact that I don't want this to be a blocker in our relationship. I'd rather be with her, wherever she is. "I want to be where you are."

"I wouldn't you to not do what you want for me. This was already an issue -"

I cut her off, "it's not a big deal for me, Rachel. I can find schools I like in New York."

"But they won't be what you want. You'll resent me!"

I tell her, "I already know what it's like to let my academic career get in the way of us and I don't care, Rachel, it's not more important than being with you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she dismisses easily. My mouth opens in shock. She tries to fix it, "wait - I mean... Quinn. You can't put your life on hold for me. You know that I'd  _never_ ask that of you."

"You're  _not_ asking."

"We don't even know if we'll be together then." She immediately regrets saying it by the shocked look on her face. Her hands fly to her open mouth as if to keep more from coming out. Her gaze is _pained_.

Before I can filter it I say, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I'm starting to get irritated. That was a low blow, especially with how much progress we've done recently. I gather every ounce of patience I have to not shut down this conversation right now and turn away from her. "Then what are we doing here?" I ask.

Her face falls. "I know, I'm sorry." I feel a hand pull my chin back to make eye contact with her. "I just... I need to be sure I'm not going into something that'll only end up breaking my heart again." By _something_ she means  _me._ She needs to be sure I won't break her heart again.

She's pleading with her eyes for me to not let this argument be the reason why we break our (newly renewed) promise to never go to bed upset at each other. "But I know you have good intentions," she keeps speaking. Her eyes fall to my lips briefly and then she focuses again: "I want to support your dreams too though, and if that means that you have to go out-of-state then let's not drop that option."

I nod, eyes locked in hers. "You really don't know if we'll be together next year?"

The edges of her lips briefly curl upward, "I sure hope so." I release my breath and she asks, "can we pick this up another time? It's late and I'm exhausted."

"Sure." I lay back down and she turns off the light again. We're still on our respective sides of the bed, both of us staring up at the dark ceiling. I can feel her breathing next to me but keeping her distance so I ask, "Are we good?"

"We're good, Quinn."

"Good."

"Good night."

"Night."

Two minutes later I pull her back into me and we fall asleep like that.

* * *

The morning comes on too fast. I wake up with my alarm blaring at 7:30 in the morning and I curse myself for not turning it off for the weekend.

It's Saturday and I have no other plans but to lounge around and do whatever Rachel wants to do this weekend. I wanted to visit Frannie but they are actually on a vacation to see Tom's family in Indiana. 

I reach to the other side of the bed hoping to feel Rachel but she's not there. The sheets are cold where she was supposed to have been which means she must be out for a while. Probably running.

I groan and try to force myself to go back to sleep but it doesn't happen so I roll to my back and pick up my phone to check on my social media. The world is in shambles and every other second I see a terrible story about the new administration of the country. I toss my phone away from me on the bed. I'm contemplating getting up when the door creaks open and Rachel comes in the room distracted by her iPhone. When she looks up I'm already smiling at her - I seriously can't help it.

"Good morning," she says and smiles. "Hungry?"

"Starving," I tell her.

"Judy's making us waffles. I passed by her on the way here." She sits on my desk chair and unties her shoes.

"How was your run?"

"Fine," she says and smiles again. "How'd you sleep?"

I retort, "fine." I smile when she rolls her eyes at me and add, "want to take a nap before breakfast?" 

She laughs at that and pulls off her socks. "I think I'll shower first before joining you on that heavenly, soft, _clean_ bed."

"I don't mind." I take advantage at our easiness this morning and openly check her out. Her body is covered in a thin layer of sweat and I have to admit that I'm incredibly attracted to sweaty Rachel. 

She rolls her eyes again and makes way to the bathroom, "Be right out."

I try to go back to sleep but can't so I lay on my stomach with my eyes closed just thinking about where life has taken me. And Rachel.

I'm still surprised at the fact that she's here and we've been talking about where we want this relationship to go. I know what I want now more than anything: her. I honestly don't know what my future could be without Rachel and I don't want to find out. I used to make fun of my friends that took their partners so seriously, as if it was a life or death kind of thing where if they weren't together they would die. I now have felt what it's like to be without the person that gives life meaning and it certainly _is_ terrifying.

She's what love poems are written about.

Eventually, I hear the bathroom door open again and feel the bed dip. She lays half on top of me and although she's wearing clothes, the parts of her skin that are uncovered are warm from the shower. She snuggles close and puts an arm over my back. "Hey."

"You feel warm," I tell her.

"Mmhm. Good shower."

I love the closeness of her voice. Her mouth is right by my ear. "I love this," I tell her. 

"Hm? Love what?"

"Being so close to you again."

She doesn't say anything after that. She moves behind me, and then I feel her lips on my cheek. She leaves the sweetest peck in its wake and the whole moment makes me teary in less than a second. I don't want to start crying though so I breathe out slowly as she moves back to her original position. "We should go get breakfast," I say.

She replies, "in a few minutes."

* * *

We eat breakfast with my mom since my dad's already out playing golf with friends, and then spend the morning watching cartoons. Well, Rachel's watching. I'm sitting with my head on her lap reading Foucault. It feels like time is dragging but I'm not complaining. For me, this week can go as slow as it wants and I'll cherish every minute of it. 

When noon finally comes around we take my mom's SUV out. I wanted to hang out at home but Rachel really wanted to go out so we end up at the German Village, strolling and shopping. When it's evening we stop by a cafe and order pies and coffee and eat out in the patio. 

She's telling me about the latest conversation she's had with Santana. I'm halfway through my key lime pie, Rachel's almost done with her German chocolate pie ("We're in the  _German_ village, Quinn, not Key West!"). They got into an argument because she decided to come up to visit and Santana insists that we should "slow down."

"What does that even _mean_?" I ask, annoyed. "Do you think we're moving too fast?"

Rachel steals a bite of my pie, "I think that it's important we're _moving.._. in the same direction for once."

"Right," I agree, "but how can we be moving fast when we already _know_ each other? Am I pushing you into this?"

She kicks me lightly under the table, "of course not. She was only concerned because... well, you had left me a mess. Then next thing she knew I was here."

"Yeah, but I came back!"

"I know," she reassures me. Her left hand softly covers mine. "You know Santana though. You'll have to show her you're not -" she stops abruptly. Shakes her head and mumbles a never mind. 

I finish the thought for her, "leaving  _again_?" God, do I hate myself right now.

"Yeah."

"I'm not."

"I know."

* * *

Sunday I wake up before Rachel does. It's late morning - eleven, almost - but we had stayed up until nearly three just talking. After an entire afternoon walking we were exhausted but pushed through with the knowledge we'd have all of Sunday to catch up on sleep. I get up and go to the bathroom and by the time I'm back she's waking up. She's in that subdued stage right before fully waking up and when she mumbles, "come back to bed," I practically lose my breath.

I nod mutely and do.

* * *

When I wake up the second time around, Rachel is already awake. She's sitting up against the headboard. She's been texting - probably Santana or her father - and when she realizes I woke up she grins at me and says, "sleepyhead."

"You practically _forced_ me," I say, pretending to be upset. 

"Sure," she chuckles. 

I roll my eyes affectionately. 

Her expression shifts minutely and then she says, "get up. Let's go somewhere." 

"Where?"

"Come on - let's get ready."

* * *

We get to the COSI and Rachel smiles at me. "This is fun!"

"You know," I say as we make our way toward the planetarium, "I've never been here before."

"What! How could you not have ever been here? You grew up in Columbus!" She thinks, "right?!"

"To the planetarium, I mean. I have been to the COSI before in elementary, middle _and_ high school but the planetarium opened when I had already left to college. Actually, it opened the year I left so... I just haven't had a chance yet."

Rachel smiles at me, "well, this is cool that we get to do it together, you know?"

We walk in and I agree, "I wouldn't want to come with anyone else."

* * *

When we are leaving I get a text from Santana. I ignore it because the last thing I heard about her she still hates me (of course I know she doesn't, I'm just pissed at her for meddling. But then again, wouldn't be Santana if she didn't). I look over at Rachel, her hands are shoved in her pockets, and ask, "want to take a walk before we go home?"

She looks at me as if surprised that I'd ask that but in the time we spent in the planetarium I've realized that I can only see our relationship going one way and I need to work to make sure it does. She nods and I beam. Instead of walking toward the car in the parking lot at the COSI we start walking toward the park behind it. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I tell her.

She hesitates for a second and then, "do you regret quitting cheerleading?"

"No," I tell her immediately and know where she's getting at. "But you're not me and I was never really passionate about cheerleading anyway; I was just good at it."

She sighs, "yeah. Santana's been on my case about going back to  _Spring Awakening._ "

"She's a good best friend." I'm glad that Santana doesn't give a shit and continues to push. It's her duty as best friend to make sure Rachel doesn't let go of her dreams. It is also my job to be supportive of Rachel and kindly guide her back to _Spring Awakening._ So I ask, "do you want to?"

She shrugs, "I don't feel like I should."

"But do you  _want_ to?"

We stop walking and she admits (too quietly for my liking), "yeah. I do."

I nod and keep walking with her next to me. "It's okay for you to want to. You _should,_ if that's what you want." I stop to let it sink in and then: "you know she wouldn't blame you for wanting to keep living, being _happy_." I worry I may have crossed a line when she cringes. I know that I never knew her friend and that I have no right in speaking for her but I do it anyway because Rachel has to hear this.

She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by her phone ringing. She looks and says, "fuck me - It's San, gimme a second." She steps off to the side and I give her the space to pick up the phone. I take the opportunity to read the text from the same person and almost drop my phone.

 **Satan Lopez [5:15 PM]:** you gonna kiss her or what?

I don't even have time to reply before Rachel's walking back huffing and puffing. "I swear - if she wasn't my best friend..." she doesn't finish the thought. I nudge her and she shakes her head, "nothing. It's nothing."

I let it go for now and we find ourselves sitting on the grass at the park. There are people hanging around - a few families, some couples, a group of elderly men playing a poker game at a table. 

Rachel sighs next to me and tells me, "I think I'm going to call the director... about going back, I mean."

My mouth is forming a huge smile before I even know what's happening. "That's great, Rach!"

"Yeah, I think you were right, you know? What you said earlier." She pulls her legs up and wraps her arms around them. Her head rests on her knees and she squints at me because the sun is setting behind my hair. She's quiet for a moment and then smiles very deliberately. "Did you know you're gorgeous?"

The compliment makes me gasp in surprise. I know she thinks that and I have heard her say it so many times but it's just... overwhelming to hear her tell me this right now. I blush furiously and shake my head, "I don't-"

She keeps talking, "I have been thinking about the last time we kissed." When I look at her she irks an eyebrow, her gaze falls to my lips. "I know I ruined  _that_ , and badly, but now I've just been wondering recently why... you haven't, uh," she's starting to get nervous. Her struggle is apparent when she gives up talking altogether.

I take a moment to reply, "I wanted you to be sure -" I lick my lips and my mind is focused only on answering her question with a kiss. Instead I explain. "Last time you weren't ready. I wanted to respect your timing."

"San said that may be why," Rachel comments to herself almost. "That's why you're..." again, it goes unsaid. I wish she would stop censoring herself. Not because I want her to shower me in compliments but because I need her to trust me again before I can kiss her properly.

"Rach." I say, "I _want_ to kiss you. I _always_ want to kiss you." I look away for a moment, toward the river, to breathe and then look back at her, "whenever you're ready."

She doesn't say anything but her head lifts off her knees and one her right hand tentatively reaches for my face. I wait. I let her take her time. Even if we don't kiss right now I'm just excited that she feels safe to wonder so openly. Her face is so very vulnerable as she stares at me so I do the same and try to keep my entire soul at her disposal. 

Her thumb travels down my cheek, her fingers follow suit. My eyes flutter closed on their own and she whispers, "look at me." I open my eyes and she pulls my chin with her hand bringing me closer to her until we're so close I can feel her breath on mine. "I'm ready," she tells me before pressing her lips on mine. My eyes close at the feeling and I can feel body of our bodies relax as I press back. I could easily lose my mind: the way she kisses me is a work each time. 

When we move away my mind is still catching up. I swallow. "I -" I say struggling to put it into words. I open my eyes and watch as she sits there so calm, her eyes still closed and a small smile threatening to grow. 

She leans forward again, forehead on mine, "I love you, Quinn." She repeats it and my heart skips another beat at hearing it, "I love you and I'm ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that the Faberry ship has sunk and it's been years but I really want to finish all my stories. This one is almost done though - maybe 1 or 2 more chapters.
> 
> Thanks for those that stuck it out!


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